


I Became We (This Christmas Eve)

by sierraadeux



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Bad Writing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cliche, Dan Howell Is Not A YouTuber, Holidays, M/M, Meet-Cute, Phil Lester Is A Christmas Elf, Strangers to Lovers, Tropes, a pinch of homophobia, and, but he's an influencer, but like if you squint, chosen family, literally a cheesy christmas movie au, the perfect formula for the cheesy gay christmas movie i deserve, with like a dash of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 89,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21627898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierraadeux/pseuds/sierraadeux
Summary: Hanging from the ceiling above the counter, in probably the only space in the store that didn’t have icicle lights dangling from it, was a glowing sign that read:SANTA’S LITTLE HELPERor,Dan is an Instagram influencer, and the only thing he takes as seriously as his carefully crafted aesthetic is his hatred of the holiday season. That is, until a certain Christmas elf breaks through the walls he has built.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 203
Kudos: 200





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Have you ever watched one of those cheesy christmas movies and said, yes this, but gayer? Well, yes, that, but gayer.  
> I honestly started this as the most self indulgent little thing, as I could not stop thinking about how much I love shitty rom-com Christmas movies, and how much my queer ass deserves more gay Christmas stories chock full of all the cringey tropes my holiday heart desires. Somehow I got carried away along the way, going from just a little thing to all of this. If you came here for good writing or something profound, I’m sorry but that is just not true to the spirit of cheesy Christmas movies. (This did all come right from my brain tho, there isn't an actual network i will not name/shitty Christmas movie its based on)  
> Also, I never let myself be self indulgent enough to take the time to write something I actually want to write, so please forgive any of my nonsense...(Also, also, lol sorry if it is abundantly clear that I’m a wlw attempting to write mlm...I am feel uncomfortable when we are not about women????)  
> I just want to say to anyone out there that doesn’t get full of the warm fuzzies when thinking of the holidays, the (surprisingly more than surface level) stuff I play with in this thing comes from a very real place, both personally and from people in my life, lots of first hand experiences, ya know? If you at all relate, just know I’m thinking of you this holiday season - as are probably many others in this corner of the internet. No one is ever really alone here, are we? I’d like to see it that way at least (not in a creepy murder way but a love and support way, lmao). Chosen family is so valid I will shout that fact from the rooftops ‘til I die!  
> Also the title is from Kelly Clarkson’s Winter Dreams (Brandon’s song), I have been affectionately calling this “This Isn’t A [network i will not name] Movie” and “Santa’s Little Helper” pretty much from the second I started writing it, but halfway through writing I really listened to the lyrics of that Kelly song when it popped up on shuffle on my Christmas Bops playlist and I went _fuck thats dnp_...as I do...with every single love song I ever hear, always...But I don’t know, it felt so much more right than [network i will not name] or little helper, so thats her name now. Please give it a listen, or two, or twelve, and cry with me about drawing hearts on windows and the concept of “we”. I definitely still will be calling it all three names as I please, because I’m a disaster that cannot be stopped, so feel free to join me in that if you’re a similar breed of chaos.  
> Anyways, I’m going to try to post a chapter every day in December (hopefully I can keep up!) Merry Ficmas and thank you for reading and humoring me, that’s the best Christmas gift I could ever receive.
> 
> ***Hi I just want to add that I went through and edited all my tags and this initial note after seeing that the big network known for their Christmas movies that starts with an H and ends with an allmark just did some homophobic nonsense by removing an advertisement featuring two women kissing claiming that they didn't want to air "controversial" ads meanwhile they air the same exact ads with cis men and women kissing so like.......yeah....I am pretty peeved and Really want zero association of that name with this little queer love story so yeah, just wanted to let all of y'all know that. All in all, don't support that homophobic network, donate to the HRC, and stan netflix's let it snow for giving us a good christmas movie with lesbians.***

It was clear the chill October breeze had been upended by the arrival of November, and along with it came the biting reminder that winter was well on its way. Dan pulled the zip of his parka up to the top of his neck as a particularly strong gust of wind seeped through the garment all the way to his bones. Dan tucked his chin down towards his neck, leaving just his eyes and mess of curls atop his head exposed to the outside world. The trees were no longer filled with the golden, red, and orange leaves that September brought. Dan could, and did, count the remaining leaves that still desperately clung to the few trees he passed as he walked along. Nothing looked alive anymore, as it always did around this time of year, which is a funny thought considering that this was London - not the first place anyone would come running to to see thriving nature. Regardless of that, the hustle and bustle of millions of people should make for a lively atmosphere, but Dan didn’t think so. 

It wasn’t helping that when Dan looked up, pulling his gaze from the pavement to the tops of the buildings he was surrounded by, he could see they were busy with the beginnings of installation for the Christmas lights that curse Oxford Street every year. As quickly as his eyes flicked up, they were back down to the pavement watching the buckles on his McQueen boots shake with every step. Look, it’s not like he _hates_ Christmas...he isn’t the bloody grinch. He just, strongly dislikes the holiday season and everything that it entails. The only not soul sucking part of the second half of autumn and its transition into winter was the fashion. Which brings him back to the whole reason he is even outside of the warmth and safety of his flat, he has a date with a certain Gucci watch. 

At this point, Dan shouldn’t have to justify his expensive designer purchases as he walks down the street wearing the equivalent of four months rent on his body as it is, but he woke up this morning to one million followers on Instagram and, _damnit_ , he deserved to celebrate. After rolling about in bed giggling like an absolute teenager, entirely off brand for his persona but that’s none of your business, he pulled up the watch he has been eyeing for weeks and went to finally buy it. The responsible adult within him - the one that allows him to splurge on the finer things in life, but still knows the value of the dollar - had ruined his plans of placing an order and then lounging on the couch all day. If he were to order the watch for delivery, with insurance and next day shipping, he would be shelling out another seventy-five pounds. When the John Lewis site prompted him with free in store pickup under the shipping options, that responsible adult brain cell whirred to life. Dan didn’t _want_ to leave his flat, but he couldn’t justify not going to go pick it up and paying more when he really didn’t even _need_ the watch in the first place. It was almost out of season so he couldn’t justify it as a work purchase, it wasn’t a work purchase, it was a Dan really, really wants this pretty watch and he deserves it purchase. So he put a hold on his watch and reluctantly rolled out of bed. 

Dan instantly regretted his choice to save himself a few pounds when he walked up to the looming John Lewis building and saw that the storefront was also already in full Christmas decoration swing. _It’s November first and capitalism has struck again,_ Dan rolled his eyes as he walked into the large department store, trying to ignore the garish decorations that were beginning to litter it. He’s usually not this melodramatic, he knows this is how every single establishment will look come December, but when it was Halloween literally _yesterday_ the transition into Dan’s least wonderful time of the year leaves a bit of a sting. He unzipped his coat as he made his way towards the watch counter, the warm air from the store a harsh contrast to the biting wind outside. Dan had his blinders on as he walked through the store, if he was going to drop seven hundred pounds on a celebratory watch he absolutely could not be tempted by the AllSaints racks. As he approached the watch and jewelry counter, Dan stopped and blinked for a moment. 

“You know what, God,” Dan muttered under his breath to a deity he was not entirely convinced even existed, “you’re a real fucking asshole.” He composed himself before stepping up to the counter, knowing he shouldn’t be taking out his anger on someone just trying to make a living under the crushing thumb of corporate greed and capitalism. They were probably just as upset about what they were wearing as Dan was. 

“Hello?” Dan caught the attention of the poor, poor employee and was met with bright eyes and a dazzling smile. _Shit, this is why I’m my own boss, I could never do that good of a fake customer service smile,_ he mused as the employee made his way down the jewelry cases to stand right in front of Dan.

“Hi! How can I help you?” the bright eyes and dazzling smile said back to him, and oh, Dan was staring. He was absolutely staring. 

_“_ Uh I-” Dan cleared his throat. _Jesus Dan, you’re so fucking queer you’re actually checking out a man in a god damn elf costume of all things._

Dazzling smile just giggled, _fucking giggled._ “Sorry I switch to working upstairs during the holidays, hence the-” he waved his hand up to his pointy hat, “but there was a no show and I didn’t have my suit, just this so,” he explained. “Not the usual suit you see behind this counter, huh, but its fun isn’t it?” he smiled and cocked his head, and of course the bells on his hat fucking _jingled_ along with the movement. 

Dan had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes into the back of his head, it helped that the man in the absolutely insufferable Christmas elf costume (jingle bell hat, pointy ears, and all) was incredibly cute. But he couldn’t help the thick sarcasm in his voice as he replied, “Yeah...fun...not the word I would choose, but to each their own.” 

Dazzling smile - or Phil, Dan noted the sleek name tag affixed to the gaudy green costume - just giggled again, seemingly so good at his job that Dan’s general personality doesn’t throw him off for a moment. “How can I be of assistance today?” 

“Oh uh, I put a hold on a watch to pick up this morning.” Dan explained, looking Phil directly in the eye. Not because he wanted to, he hated prolonged eye contact with strangers, but because it was the only place he could look where his eyes weren’t completely assaulted by Christmas cheer. 

“I’ll take you over here,” Phil waved to follow him down the case towards the register, Dan unfortunately having to follow after a six foot tall, jingling, man elf. “Name?” he smiled up at Dan when they stopped in front of the computer. 

“Daniel Howell.” 

Phil tapped for a moment, Dan desperately trying to tune out the jingling bells that were apparently also affixed to the man’s candy cane striped sleeves. “Okay! Let me pull it for you!” he chirped before bouncing away back down the case to retrieve the watch, a cacophony of bells following him. 

This was truly Dan’s own personal hell. There was no way this wasn’t some sort of divine intervention punishing him for buying an expensive watch he really did not need. ' _It’s a celebration for my achievement, my career is taking off, I haven’t even bought a piece more than two hundred pounds in the past month'_ Dan pleaded in his head, mumbling aloud a bit, justifying the reasons why he absolutely should not be punished like this for splurging. 

The jingling, and Phil, returned as quickly as he left, the familiar black and cream box in his hand. He slid it across the counter to Dan, “Here it is! Take a look, make sure everything's Gucci.”

Dan’s eyes flicked right back up from the box to Phil, who’s bright eyes were now filled with mirth, a hand covering his smile. Dan just shook his head and snorted, _the elf’s got jokes._

“You know,” Dan waved a hand gesturing towards the offending outfit Phil was wearing, “Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage in that thing and you need help” a hint of seriousness in his tone. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Phil laughed. 

Dan shook his head and looked back down to the box. He tugged on the soft black ribbon. When it untied with little resistance, Dan pulled the box open to reveal the watch he’s been pining after for weeks. It was very different from Dan’s usual style, which was black on black on black...on black, but there was something about it that he really loved. He wasn’t a designer brand whore ( _debatable)_ , he just saw something so timeless about this piece. And those little small pops of color in Dan’s wardrobe, like the soft pink roses that fill the clear heel of the black boots he’s currently wearing, bring that tiny speck of brightness to the void that is Dan’s aesthetic. Those little details are what made people see him as a person of influence. An influencer, if you will. This piece was exactly that, the classic Gucci green and red band felt soft in his hand as he picked the watch up. He turned the watch around a few times, admiring the simplicity but intricacy of the embroidered bee on the watch face. There were no numbers or tick marks, just the silver hands of the watch affixed to the center of the bee, the design seamless on the band. Dan smiled, _yes_ , this is exactly the way to celebrate a million followers. 

“Oh! It’s like Christmas!” 

If Dan’s life were a movie, he would have made a note to the foley artist to insert a record scratch. He was tugged out of his admiration of the watch and looked back up to the impossible elf in front of him. The elf who now was leaning over the case on his elbows, checking out the watch in Dan’s hand as well. 

Dan looked back to the watch, then to Phil, then to the watch again, “I think you just ruined this watch for me” he deadpanned. 

Phil only laughed. That giggle, Dan decided, sang sweeter than the godforsaken bells on his costume. “Do you want me to box it back up so I can ring you out?” his hand was outstretched to take the watch. In that moment, Dan couldn’t understand why or how he could be so annoyed but also so enamored with a person at the same time. He reached over and gently placed the watch in Phil’s, stupid candy cane striped, hand. 

“Yeah, please.” 

Phil smiled, and Dan smiled back. He couldn’t help it. Annoyance and infatuation battling inside his brain. Phil re-boxed, wrapped, and bagged Dan’s watch with such a gentle care that looked absolutely wrong for a fully grown man in an elf costume. Phil rang him up, and Dan tried his best to zone out from the moment he was sliding his card into the chip reader, until he was taking the bag from Phil, receipt carefully tucked away inside. Dan wasn’t going to think about how much he spent just now, he could stress over that later. 

“Have a wonderful day, Daniel.” Phil gave him one last dazzling smile as he handed over the bag. 

“Thanks, you too” Dan grinned, still wondering how a person could master the fake customer service smile so well that it actually meets their eyes. As he walked away, he also wondered how he was able to have an interaction with a stranger, a stranger in a _goddamn_ elf costume at that, that didn’t leave him absolutely drained. He didn’t feel the usual pull in his shoulders towards the ground, he didn’t feel the need to run home to his flat and burrow under a fuzzy blanket to recover. Which was odd, since sometimes even just the social interaction of answering the door for a takeaway delivery drained him. And then, as he once again walked past the AllSaints rack away from the jewelry counter, he heard it. The jingling of Phil’s bells. 

“Real fucking asshole you are,” Dan cursed God under his breath again as he zipped his coat back up and headed out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell, or will quickly learn, google maps is the extent of my London knowledge...also John Lewis materialized from my need for a department store that _could maybe_ make sense having those stereotypical employees forced to dress as elves thing going on.  
> Thanks for joining my holiday nonsense!


	2. Chapter 2

Dan returned to his flat with a bagged sandwich from Pret and a breathless grumble about the lift being out of service again. He tossed his food on the kitchen counter, that can wait, then stepped further into the room to place his bag from John Lewis on his dining table, that cannot wait. 

Dan’s flat was a bright, crisp white studio apartment. He lived on the fifth floor. It was high enough to have an unobscured view of the surrounding London architecture and the park in the distance, but not so high up that he would be paranoid about not making it down the stairs in time if there was a fire. Although he enjoyed the view less and less with how often the lift stops working, walking up the five flights of stairs was a full on assault of his lungs and legs. Okay, _maybe_ he needed to get back into that running kick he was on for a month last year. He pointedly ignored the black running Nikes staring at him as he sat in front of his shoe rack and pulled off his boots. 

His entire flat was basically two rooms, one of which was the bathroom, but it wasn’t cramped or dingy. Dan kept a strict black and white theme, not unlike the rest of his life...his clothes...his Instagram feed. He fell in love with the space the first time he walked in, the bare flat a blank space of nothing but white walls, white floors, white cabinets, and white countertops. Most people would see that and think it was a bit too much, but well, Dan was a bit too much himself sometimes. The small kitchen opens on the left from the front door, separated from the rest of the room by a breakfast bar. Tall, clear acrylic chairs are tucked up against that counter. To the right, adjacent to the front door, is a coat closet that Dan obviously uses as a regular closet, guests with coats be damned. The door next to the closet opens to his bathroom. A tall white clothing rack runs parallel to Dan’s bed, acting as a really expensive room separator and a space for his overflowing wardrobe. Dan’s bed is pushed lengthwise against the far wall, the length of it running up against two of the three large windows that sit within the wall. His bedding is a soft heather grey, and a round mirror with a moon design hangs above his headboard. Between Dan’s bed and the clothing rack is a black dresser, acting as both a space for his underwear - among other things - and a nightstand. Across from the bed, pushed against the opposite wall is his TV entertainment center, which consists of mostly just gaming systems. A large fluffy black rug anchors that section of the room, tucked up under Dan’s bed and reaching out right up to the TV stand. 

Between the TV and the breakfast bar sits a square, white on white ( _thank you, Ikea)_ dining table with four matching white on white chairs. No dining ever happens on this table, Dan either sitting at the breakfast bar (less often) or eating in his bed like a heathen (more often). The dining table serves its purpose as Dan’s aesthetic backdrop. The white on white table sits against the white wall and on the white floor. It’s simple, it’s stark, and with specific angling and editing: it looks kin to a photo studio. Many, if not all, of Dan’s Instagram posts are taken here. Sitting at the table, sitting on the table, staging props on the table, moving the table entirely to the other side of the room to use just the plain white wall and floor. Its an integral player in Dan’s career and he is thankful for the stroke of genius that came to him to use the space that way when he first moved in. 

Once his shoes were off and his coat thrown confidently in the direction of his bed, Dan plonked himself down on one of the white dining chairs and grabbed the Gucci box out of the bag. He tossed the empty John Lewis bag, also, confidently in the direction of his bed. He ran his fingers down the soft black ribbon. He was about to rip into the box, but he noted how perfectly it was tied together, that bow would never again be recreated by Dan’s large fingers.

“Stupid cute elf man with his stupid perfect bow tying,” Dan muttered to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. “Stupid _Christmas_ watch” he scoffed, shaking his head.

Dan pulled his phone out to snap a few pictures - a few to Dan might be fifty curated shots, sue him - of the box on the table. Once he deemed at least one of the pictures worthy, he pulled on the string and opened the box. He couldn’t help but grin as he admired the watch once again. He fastened the watch onto his right wrist and held out his hand, turning his wrist every which way and _loving_ how it looked and felt. 

“Daniel, you deserve this” he said to himself, maybe believing that would make the dent in his bank account sting a little less. 

Dan hooked an ankle around the chair leg opposite him and tugged it forward. He propped his feet up on the chair, adjusting to find an attractive angle with his knees bent. Smooth, milky-white skin peeked out from the many rips in his black jeans. Once he found his angle, he brushed off the few treacherous bits of fuzz that had clung to the fabric throughout the day. The lighting in his flat was good, as it was still a bit before four, although the sun was just about ready to start going down...another check on the endless list of Why Dan Hates This Time Of Year. Dan placed his right hand on his knee, showcasing the watch. The rainbow reflects in his black nail polish shimmered as he shifted and took multiple shots. 

Dan loved what he did. He loved photography, he loved art, he loved fashion. He loved the control and curation of his Instagram feed and his “brand”. If nothing else in his life, he knew he would always be able to control his feed and that gave him comfort. It gave him order in an often chaotic brain. It was peace of mind and it was sustaining him in all aspects. Mentally, physically, keeping a roof over his head, allowing him to go out and buy a seven hundred pound watch on a whim. Just as anyone else, there were aspects of his life he disliked, but his career - his passion - he was grateful to like. 

When he had multiple satisfactory shots, he relocated to the breakfast bar. He connected his phone to his speaker that sat on the counter, shuffled his heavy rotation Spotify playlist, and tucked into the sandwich he had grabbed on the way home. As he ate, he responded to some congratulatory texts with some simple emojis - he wasn’t in the mood for conversations right now, he was an introvert after all - and scrolled through his socials. He tweeted to his many, many less Twitter followers: 

**_@danielhowell: one million instagram followers cool_ **

and then put the picture of his Gucci box on his Instagram story with the caption: **_wonder what this could be_ **

The notifications began to roll in again, a similar congratulatory storm as the one he woke up to this morning, and he hadn’t even posted on his main feed yet. He grinned, and shot out a mental _fuck you_ to all the people in his life that told him he would never get this far. He knew he was more than just a _lazy millennial_ and he knew what he did was more than just _playing on a phone_ , and it was nice to have reminders of that.

Dan scrolled his feed, the only sounds in his flat being his current duet with Janelle Monáe, the rhythmic double tapping of his thumb against his phone screen, and the distant hum of the city outside his windows. He pushed his socked toes against the island and rocked back in his chair with the confidence of someone who does not live alone. He really should instead live more like someone who would not be found for at least a few days if he lost balance, but where is the fun in that? He double tapped a picture of Nina West, double tapped and saved a picture from off__white of a black and white checked puffy bag, double tapped, scrolled past, then scrolled back up to comment a string of heart eye emojis on a photo of a famous dog account he follows, and ended his scrolling session by double tapping and commenting **_okay dad go off_ ** on a thirst trap posted by an LA-based YouTuber he follows. 

Noting the time, Dan debated for all of three seconds if he should get some work emails done before deciding against it, instead pushing himself off his chair and padding into the kitchen to toss his food trash away and pour himself a Ribena. He made his way over to his bed as Frank Ocean sang to him, grabbing his discarded coat (that definitely didn’t make it onto his bed earlier) off the floor and hung it back up on the clothing rack. He put his glass down on his dresser and flopped down on the bed, snuggling back into the softness for a moment before reaching his long arm down the other side of the bed. He fished out the John Lewis bag (that had also not quite made it onto the bed) and reached inside for the receipt so he wouldn’t forget to stash it with his other important documents and receipts. 

“That’s weird,” he muttered aloud, brows furrowed in confusion as he regarded the slip of paper. He could have sworn the watch was at _least_ a hundred pounds more than what was staring back at him under the total line. He patted around himself until he felt the hard aluminum of his laptop under his blankets and pulled it out, opening the lid to the same page it was left on this morning. His eyes flicked back and forth from the price listed online to the bottom of his receipt a few times. It didn’t make sense. Dan ran his thumb back up the paper and inspected the transaction with a stricter eye, and, _oh_ , there it was. 

Dan blew air out of his nose, “Did he really give me his employee discount?” he wondered aloud incredulously.

Dan’s not quite sure why he did it, but he found himself rolling back off the bed and walking the short distance to his fridge where he plucked a silver glitter fridge magnet off it’s surface and stuck the receipt underneath it. Without taking a moment to even think about what he just did, he was turning on his heel and bouncing right back into bed. 

The sun now hung dangerously low in the sky. Dan’s room illuminated only by the soft glow of the fairy lights that were weaved between the white bars of his headboard, and the rerun of Bake Off playing softly on the TV in front of him. Dan was lounging on his stomach in bed, restricting jeans traded for a soft pair of joggers, flipping through his favorite shots he took earlier until he decided on the perfect one. It was a methodical process that he loved. He didn’t know how to explain it, but his brain was both on and off at the same time when he chose the perfect shot then adjusted its settings. He didn’t have to think twice as he ran his image through a few different applications on his phone, brightening the whites, tapping out that one pesky piece of fluff on his jeans he seemed to miss, and comparing his end result to the rest of his feed to make sure it was worthy. He felt calm. He felt in control. He posted the final picture, making sure to tag the brand right below the watch face, with the caption: **_i know i should be thanking you guys but here i am thanking myself for this one million gift. any comments relating these classic colors to a certain holiday will be BLOCKED it is literally november first you heathens._ **

Dan stuck around on Instagram for a bit, liking and replying to comments, before settling himself into his night routine. A few YouTube marathons and Wikipedia deep dives later, he was softly snoring. And if the last thing he thought about before falling asleep that night was blue eyes and stupid fucking jingle bells, well, thats just none of your business. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed I'm not having anyone beta this as I post, which I probably _definitely_ should but I'm a virgo and thats _my run on sentence and I can keep it if I want to._  
>  Jokes aside, thanks to everyone that's reading so far, my heart is SO warm, I didn't think anyone would be interested tbh so I would simply die for you all :)


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days went by in the usual monotony of Dan’s life. He rolled out of bed just shy of the early afternoon. He caught up on work emails, and to his horror, work phone calls. It was difficult to understand why any human being would choose the awkward back and forth of a phone call when there was a perfectly good invention that could send your fully formed, well articulated thoughts back and forth in an instant, without having to constantly clear your throat or stumble through “um”s and “uh huh”s. Although, it was worth the cringe when he had a few more secured brand deals scheduled into his google calendar and a handful more inquired about. 

He spent a day desperately trying to construct meals out of the sparse contents of his fridge and pantry before accepting defeat at dinnertime, placing his usual grocery delivery order and treating himself to the cheesy meaty goodness that was his typical Dominos cheat meal. When the buzzer echoed through his flat, he drew a big red ‘X’ over the day on the dry erase calendar that was affixed to the side of his fridge, and made his way out the door and down to the lobby to collect his spoils. 

He posted a scheduled Topman advertisement on his feed, one of his most consistent brand sponsor relationships. He posted Instagram stories recommending the new Dua Lipa release, a lazy shot of him cozied up in bed complaining about the November cold front, and a slow motion zoom in of his TV with Drag Race UK on the screen. 

On Friday morning he found himself sat in bed, leaning his side against the large middle window. The steam from his black coffee tickled his nose, his hands wrapped around the plain black mug to warm them. Down below, the usual ungraceful dance of the busy city streets soldiered on. Aggressive car horns found their way up to his ears, a distant whirring of an ambulance ever present. Tiny people scattered two and fro, blissfully unaware of Dan’s gaze as they went about their own lives. The dichotomy of unsettled and comforted bounced about his chest. A familiar feeling. Lonely but not alone. 

The sight of two city workers wrapping the bare trees that sat every few meters apart from each other, unnaturally within the pavement of the sidewalk, with outdoor fairy lights pulled him out of his own brain. And not really in a good way. Aesthetically, yeah, Dan’s street looked beautiful at night when they were all switched on. But they were still a holiday decoration, something that left a sour taste in his mouth. Dan sighed and placed his coffee on the windowsill, lightly shoving over a candle with the side of the mug to make room for it, and unsuccessfully ran a hand through his hair. The decision to shower was made when it took more than ten seconds to untangle his fingers from his slept on curls. 

When Dan stepped out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy black towel around his waist, he was warm all the way through. A mix of the borderline scalding shower, that he knew was bad for his skin, and the two cups of hot coffee coursing through his veins doing for him what his flat’s central heating would not. To savor the feeling, he haphazardly sprayed his wet hair with heat protectant and rubbed in a dollop of curl styling product before blasting it with the hair dryer. The brown curls were fluffy and wild from the direct heat. It probably didn’t help that he was well overdue for a haircut, the top choosing its own day to day fate of either falling down over his forehead - thick swirls daring to poke his eye out - or piling high in a fluffy nest that gave him an unneeded extension to his overall height. Dan ran his hand over the side of his head, the short hair there brushing between his fingers was nowhere near as long as his fringe, but it was well overgrown past the tight shave he liked during the summer months. He continued to mess with his hair as he went through the rest of his routine - brushing his teeth, sticking a small silver hoop through one of his earlobes - cocking his head every once in a while to survey the situation. With a final mist of something that _was_ good for his skin, a facial spray that was sent to him as PR from a skincare brand, he decided he should book a trim but for nothing more than the crispy, dead ends. He learned his lesson last year getting a fresh cut at the beginning of winter weather. He wouldn’t be subjecting himself to a freezing cold head again, his carefully constructed aesthetic be damned. Just another reason on the endless list to hate this time of year. 

Since he hadn’t ventured out of the house the past few days, Dan reluctantly decided to put real clothes on instead of dressing back in loungewear. He convinced himself to, at least, make his way a few blocks down to pick up anything that was waiting at his PO box. Maybe he would award himself an (absolutely not seasonal flavored) expensive drink from the Starbucks next to the post office as well. 

Forty-five minutes later he found himself balancing a venti citrus tea on three boxes, a bundle of soft bubble mailers tucked under his arm as he struggled to get into his building. He praised the higher powers that be that the lift was working again, bumping his hip to the button and waiting for it to come back down to retrieve him. He probably shouldn’t willingly trust a lift that is working just as often as it is not, but Dan can afford to live life on the edge sometimes. 

Once on the fifth floor, he let himself into his flat, picking back up the boxes he placed on the ground to unlock his door before shutting it behind him. The packages made their way into a disorganized pile on the dining table, Dan’s tea finally returning to the comfort of his hands. This trip was far less overwhelming than he knew they will become in the next few weeks. He only had to wait in a line of two people to retrieve his packages, the ones that don’t ever end up fitting in the small box that he had purchased once brands started to offer to send him things. Once the holiday rush starts so does long lines to send and receive gifts, and letters, and whatever else other people who actually celebrate the holidays do. It becomes impossible for him to do a PO box run in under two hours. Dan scrunched his nose up, to no one in particular, at the reminder. He _was_ feeling good at the moment though, his head far more clear than it was before from being cooped up in his flat. To cling to that fleeting feeling, with a glance at the crumpled paper stuck on his fridge, Dan scooped his keys back up off the table, dropped them into his coat pocket, and was back out the door. 

As Dan made the short walk to the tube, he watched his boots move along the pavement - pointedly ignoring the various holiday decorations being erected around him. Not unlike a few days ago, when Dan had found himself sticking the receipt from the watch that was currently clung to his wrist under his jumper and jacket to the refrigerator, he wonders what is possessing him to do this. He was probably losing his mind, thats what was happening here, he was losing his mind as he went into the underground to make the short trip to the Oxford Circus stop. _I do need some new socks_ , he rationalized to himself, ignoring the facts that he, one, really did not need any new socks and, two, could have just as easily re-ordered the same pack of black socks that he always does on Amazon when his current pairs start to get worn down. _The fresh air is good for you_ , he continues to tell himself as he exits - ignoring the questionable smells of the tube and then resurfacing to the automobile exhaust filled air of the London streets. He heads on the same path he took just a few days before, _you could use the exercise_ , weak but there’s no argument against that. Although, it would have been much more scenic and enjoyable to get exercise in the form of a walk through the park next to his flat. 

The internal back and forth continued as he walked, trying to convince himself he was doing anything other than traveling back to the John Lewis department store for the sole purpose of catching a glimpse of the man he was somehow enamored by, even though his only encounter with him included an outfit that, quite frankly, made Dan want to throw up. He needed socks, and maybe a few plain black and white tee shirts to replace his old ones that have gotten too worn and stretched out in the collar, he told himself. He was a fashion influencer, he needed his basics to be crisp and perfect, he told himself. _That’s why I’m here_ , he rolled his eyes at himself, and at the large store displays that looked impossibly even more festive than they were a few days prior. With that, he stepped through the doors. 

Dan shook off the deja vu as he unzipped his parka and started towards the menswear section. And, well, if you asked if he fixed his hair five separate times in every mirror and reflective surface he passed as he picked up a pack of socks and a few tee shirts, he would deny it. He peered over to the jewelry and watch cases as he meandered towards the till in that section, frowning when a petite woman in a blazer shot him a tight lipped smile from behind the counter. 

“Yeah, Dan, you’re just here for socks,” he muttered under his breath, clocking himself, as he turned back towards the center of the store where he knew there was a directory by the escalators. 

Through the jingles and bright smiles, Dan remembers the elf - Phil - mentioning he usually worked upstairs. As his eyes scanned the sign with all the different levels of the massive store and its various departments, he knew there was only one possibility. It’s not like he wasn’t surprised. It made perfect sense. He just wasn’t going to pretend to be happy about it. He was just going to embrace this odd mood he was in, the one where he actually did these kinds of things on a whim. He told himself that it wouldn’t be fair to Phil to judge a beautiful man for what a fortune 500 company forces him to wear during the holiday season, and it wouldn’t be fair to himself to deny how much he just wanted to see him again - maybe even talk to him again. Dan was still just a man after all. 

So this is how he found himself, tapping his foot on the escalator step as it slowly brought him up a level. And then up another. And another, until he was faced with the nightmare that was the John Lewis Christmas Shop. Dan had never, in any number of recent years, been on this level of this store during the holiday season. In fact, he made it a habit to purposely avoid every and any Christmas store and Christmas section within stores as often as he could. 

Once again, objectively, the icicle lights hanging from every single inch of the ceiling were beautiful. But Dan couldn’t help but hate them. They sparkled and twinkled, and the distinct evergreen fir scent filled the air as he stepped forward. It felt nostalgic. Dan’s stomach lurched. He stepped into the shop, tentatively looking around with a squint to his eye. His ears were assaulted with soft, jazzy piano renditions of Christmas classics, his eyes assaulted by hundreds, if not thousands, of sparkly baubles and tinsel. Decorated trees filled the space, displaying various different curated themes and color schemes of baubles, tinsel, and tree toppers. It was overwhelming. He could see a large red sleigh in the far corner of the shop. It was horrific. But then he turned his head to the left, his eyes meeting a boxy u-shaped counter settled around Christmas card displays and shelves of boxes and gift bags of every color in the rainbow. Hanging from the ceiling above the counter, in probably the only space in the store that didn’t have icicle lights dangling from it, was a glowing sign that read: 

**SANTA’S LITTLE HELPER**

~ **gift wrapping** ~

Dan’s eyes met the figure standing below the sign, and his stomach flipped for a completely different reason. 


	4. Chapter 4

“Daniel, right?” the deep voice pulled him back down to earth. Or well, whatever Twilight Zone of Daniel Howell’s Nightmares that the department store’s Christmas shop was. 

Dan nodded as he walked up to the counter, having an incredibly hard time not outwardly staring.

“Just Dan actually,” he corrected, pulling together any ounce of chill he could find in his body, and dusting off the old how-to book in the back of his brain that was rarely used for actual, real life conversations with attractive men. He returned Phil’s smile. 

Phil’s smile. That was still so bright and _real_ feeling that Dan could no longer be convinced that it was just customer service theatrics. “You know, I just bought bought some pants with my Christmas shopping yesterday,” he gestured towards the pack of socks in Dan’s right hand, shirts slung over his forearm. “Great minds think alike,'' he giggled, holding a hand up to his mouth. 

Dan felt the overwhelming need to reach across the counter and pull it away. He didn’t. Obviously. But he was slowly losing what little resolve he had. It just wasn’t fair that even in something as equally ridiculous as the first time he saw him, Phil was somehow more attractive. It wasn’t for lack of jingle bells, much to Dan’s dismay, as the tiny ones affixed to the plush reindeer antlers atop his head were still ringing as much as the elf costume. It was probably because he could see _more_ of Phil than he could before. Before, that stupid, horrible elf hat was covering his head. Today, the headband was pushing back soft, dark chocolate brown hair that didn’t quite match his much lighter - perfectly arched, Dan noted - eyebrows. He was in a monstrosity of a suit and Dan couldn’t quite decide if it was better or worse than the elf getup. It was a black suit completely covered in mistletoe, paired with a black button up and a red and green striped tie. He would not admit that it looked good, no one could look good in something so garish and tacky. It did not look good. 

_Okay, Phil looked good._

“Oh, no, I’m not doing any Christmas shopping,” Dan replied. “Just this,” he lifted his arm. 

Dan watched as confusion flicked over Phil’s face, brows tugging together. “So just window shopping up here then?” he huffed, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. 

_Yes, that is exactly what I’m doing_. “No, no I don’t celebrate” he explained. 

The same confused look came back, this time a pink - _oh god, incredibly pink_ \- bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. Dan laughed, he couldn’t help but laugh. He didn’t know why he felt warm all over. 

“So you...not Christmas shopping...you...who does not celebrate Christmas…are up here...in the Christmas shop...for…” Phil pondered aloud, pausing for emphasis and to dramatically rub his forefinger to his chin. 

“I...uh-” Dan stammered. 

“For me to gift wrap your socks!” Phil exclaimed with a single, sharp clap of his hands, a look of absolute mischief in his eyes. Oh Dan was absolutely caught out, but it didn’t seem to bother Phil so he just nodded along. 

“You got me.” Dan shook his head and laughed to himself as he handed his items to Phil to ring up and, apparently, gift wrap. 

“I’m Phil by the way,” he chatted as he expertly folded the tee shirts while Dan was fiddling with the card machine. 

Dan pointed to the name tag that was situated on top of a bundle of holly, “I know,” he grinned and could _feel_ how overly affectionate the smile was, bordering dangerous double dimple territory. 

Phil's chin pulled down towards his chest, eyes following Dan's finger. “Oh, oh of course!” Phil nodded and returned the smile. 

He buzzed around, all long limbs, continuous jingles, and exaggerated motions that seemed downright hazardous, but it was serving him well. He came back up from below the counter with an armful of square bits of wrapping paper. 

Once they were on the counter, he shuffled through them wordlessly, creating two piles - one with the majority of the bits of paper, and another with only three.

“So these are the only like,” Phil pursed his lips for a moment, “...just winter themed ones.” He put his hand over the small pile and fanned them out in front of Dan. “The rest are all _very_ Christmas and Santa, I’m afraid.” He looked back up at Dan expectantly, bottom lip now trapped between his teeth. 

Dan, regretfully looked away and down at Phil’s offerings. A white and blue glitter striped design, black paper with little red double decker busses covered in snow, and a forest green one with tiny fawns and blue birds all over. 

“This one,” Dan placed his hand over the deer wrapping paper and Phil beamed. 

“Perfect choice.” Phil grabbed all the bits of paper in a woosh, disappearing under the counter again, then popping back up not unlike a meerkat. 

Dan just leaned his elbows on the counter, chin in his palm, and watched as Phil pulled out a much larger roll of the paper and turned his back to him to the wrapping table behind the counter. 

Dan noticed a lot of things about Phil as he watched. He noticed that his hands shook - so slight it was barely noticeable - but it still looked effortless as he made the perfect folds in his shirts and in the wrapping paper. He noticed that he hummed, so softly, along to the jazzy Christmas covers that were filling the store. He noticed his _perfect_ plump ass that was confined in mistletoe jail. _God,_ Dan had to avert his eyes. He looked away, up at the large decorated Christmas tree to his right. Out of the two options, Dan would much rather be looking at the festive bum. _What?_ Dan is still just a man. _An ass man_ , if you will. 

Dan focused on spinning his wallet like a top on the counter, not only to keep his eyes to himself, but also to busy his mildly anxious hands. He could hear the sound of a scissor blade running along a piece of ribbon, it made the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. 

Dan cleared his throat, “So I wanted to thank you for what you did the other day, you didn’t have to...but I uh...it was appreciated.” Phil hummed in response, the sound of ribbon curling pierced the air again. 

“Didn’t have to but I wanted to,” Phil said softly with a small shrug as he turned back around to Dan, a perfectly wrapped present in his hands. He handed it over to Dan, and he hated how much he relished in the tips of their fingers touching for all of five seconds. Was he thirteen years old or twenty-eight? The jury’s still out. 

“Besides it’s not everyday I get to sell a watch to an actual model,” he added and Dan felt every inch of his skin blushing red, “Or maybe it is, considering you’re back here now.” Phil winked, or at least, Dan _thinks_ whatever cute thing he just did with both of his eyes was supposed to be a wink, and Dan giggled. _I am fucked._

“Excuse me? Could I get some assistance?” A shrill voice pulled them out of their bubble. Dan turned his head to see an elderly woman standing by a tower of baubles waving her hand at Phil. 

“See you around?” Dan nodded his head once towards Phil as he came out from behind the counter to help the woman, trying to retain any amount of chill. 

“Yeah,” Phil paused and smirked at Dan as he backed his way out towards the exit of the section, “I hope so.” 

And with one last salute - _goddamnit Dan, why can’t you just be normal? -_ Dan was turning around and headed for the escalators. A forest green, perfectly wrapped (a big black bow tied around it, curled ribbon ends, et al) package hugged to his chest. 

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Dan muttered to his shoes, jaw starting to ache from the smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you know me you know I am always saying that I want to just put irl Phil in my pocket but _man_ I especially want to put _this _Phil in my pocket...I would truly die for him...and also for all of you guys reading and kudos-ing and commenting...would absolutely die for y'all too__


	5. Chapter 5

Surprisingly, Dan held back the intrusive thoughts of every single way he may have embarrassed himself, and of how it made him feel being surrounded by that much _Christmas,_ the whole journey back home. Of course, the visions of mocha hair and lopsided smiles (circling through his head like the love hearts that would be floating there if he were a cartoon character) had everything to do with it. 

He thinks it's because he hasn’t had a crush in a while. Hasn’t _let_ himself have a crush on someone that wasn’t thousands of miles away or trapped behind his phone screen in a while. It was safer that way. After everything he has lost, it was just safer that way. 

But Phil. Phil had barged into Dan’s life, shaking him off his axis, just as the dreaded November first Christmas decorations do. He thinks, one of those two events, is welcomed. He could let himself have this. He didn’t even remember what it felt like to pine after someone. So maybe he would. He would let himself pine. And maybe he would let himself get his heart broken. And that would be okay. After so many years of not allowing anything of the sort, of guarding his heart and carefully clinging to the stability and control he created for himself, maybe he was at a place where he could see what would happen if he took his hand off the joy-con and considered booting up a co-op. 

_God_ , he had two pleasant interactions with a hot guy and here he was - U-hauling all over the place. He chooses to blame whatever higher power - be it star sign or wrathful mythical being with a grudge - that cursed him to always have to _feel things_ so intensely. He was always nothing, or all. Rarely was there a middle ground.

Dan looked over at the green package that was sat atop his pile of mail, leaning his body over the island from where he stood in the kitchen, fork prodding at the salad he threw together once he got home. It looked so harshly out of place in his flat. Even the browns of the PR packages melded into the black and white tones of his home. 

When he had finished his salad, he made quick work of shedding his jeans and replacing them with acceptable loungewear. He scooped up his packages from the dining table and dropped them on the soft rug between his bed and TV. He followed the packages, sat criss-cross with his back against the end of his bed, and flipped through a few channels to locate the one news channel that could be trusted to bring him more facts than nonsense. Well, in these times, most of the facts _were_ nonsense, but you know what he means. 

Dan tuned in and out of Brexit coverage as he methodically opened his mail. The majority of it being clothes, new releases from small independent shops and large brands alike, sent for free in hopes that Dan would feature their product on his stories or feed. Although the latter, those big brands that weren’t already sponsoring or partnering with Dan, had a habit of sending him anything and everything with little attention paid to Dan’s actual style and tastes. He knew that technically _all_ the brands that were sending him free things were just looking for free promotion, but nothing rubbed him the wrong way more than when brands saw him as nothing more than a name on a list with no consideration for individuality. He made his typical pile of shirts in bright colors, with designs he would personally never wear in or outside of the house, and ones that were just downright not even close to being in his size. Objectively, none of it was ugly or of poor quality, just nowhere near Dan’s style. Later, he would add them to the large box in his closet, where similar shirts, jackets, trousers, and various accessories piled up until he made his monthly journey to a local women’s shelter to donate it. 

He received a lot of things that he loved, though. Tops that were more his aesthetic. Many parcels that included hand-written, individualized notes that let Dan know someone at the brand was actually a fan of his page. He snapped a photo of a new nail polish collection that a Canadian YouTuber sent him, posting it on his story with a bunch of sparkle and holographic CD emojis. An independent jewelry company sent him a few pairs of sterling silver earrings, he usually didn’t venture far away from his plain silver hoop, but he pulled it out and replaced it with a long dangle earring from the package. A small silver star sat on the post, the chain hanging off of it had a little crescent moon at the end. The moon tickled his neck, making him shiver as he turned his head back and forth, admiring it in his phone camera. 

**_dan takes the biggest risk of his career in a shocking change of earring more breaking news at 10_** , he captioned a video for his story of his face, with a filter that gave him rosy pink cheeks as little moons and sparkles floated about the screen, dainty earring swishing around as he cocked his head to the left and right. 

He opened a box that contained three different sizes of the same pair of trousers and Dan silently thanked the unnecessary extra care. He was tall, but not stick thin, and brands often assume the two go hand in hand for everyone, leaving Dan to receive a lot of jeans and trousers that didn’t fit him quite right. It’s one thing to assume certain bodies had to fit into a certain stereotype (ie: Dan is a tall man, therefore Dan must be thin, and so Dan must have a 6 pack hidden under all those designer tees), but a whole other monster to send Dan things with tiny waists or no room for his thighs when you can easily see they ebb on the thicker side from scrolling down his feed. 

He _loved_ these trousers, though, holding them up in front of him. They were black and tapered at the ankle, thin white lines that were not perfectly straight - almost looking as if they were hand drawn - ran down and across the legs in a grid pattern. He absolutely would have pouted for a good hour if he was sent a pair that didn’t fit him, so yes, he was extra thankful for the size options. He pushed himself up off the floor. A mildly concerning cracking noise from his back joining the murmur of the news as he stretched and went about trying them on. 

The third pair he tried was the charm, the first refused to go up past his bum and the second made the ascent successfully but wouldn’t button no matter how much Dan bounced around the floor (he’s unsure as to why he thinks the movement would help get a button clasped, maybe that’s how gravity worked, don’t question his ways). He headed over to his bathroom to check out the pants in his full length mirror that was on the back of the door, and decided that they would definitely become a new staple in his wardrobe. 

He popped back out of the bathroom to snag a pair of black vans and slipped them on.

“Not today, WikiFeet, not today,” he mumbled to himself. He returned to the mirror and snapped a quick picture of just his lower half, a hand casually (but completely posed) shoved in a pocket. 

Dan kicked the shoes back off and slotted them back in their place on his shoe rack. He swiped at his screen, until the black and white filter was on his picture, while he made his way back to his spot on the rug. He grabbed the card from the box to double check the brand name, made a mental note to peruse their website later, and mentioned them in the story he posted. He was way too lazy to get back up when he realized he forgot to change back into his cozy joggers, so he continued to go through the packages slightly less comfortable than he was before. 

An hour later he was leaned back, head against the foot of his bed - half napping half, listening to the news. Multiple piles sat around him - clothes he needed to find a place for in his closet or on his rack, boxes he had folded down to go to the recycle room, plastic and other packaging he felt guilty having to throw in the trash, and the few shirts and the two trousers that didn’t fit him folded neatly, ready to be added to his donation box. Oh. And the nicely wrapped present from his earlier questionable escapades. 

Little deer looked back at him as he sat back up straight. His brain supplying the image of another beautiful creature with antlers in response. Dan shook his head and grinned. He didn’t need a mirror to know there was a dent in his cheek, just below it a small patch of red betraying him. 

With a sigh, Dan got back up to clean his mess. He changed back into his cozy joggers and collected all his garbage and recycling. He toed on the pair of slip-ons he kept by the door, not even attempting to grab his keys with his hands full. He could leave the door unlocked as he ran down to the rubbish room. If there was a murderer lurking in his building in the three minutes it took to complete the task, well, here’s their chance. 

When Dan got back upstairs, no murderers waiting for him in his flat, he popped on the kettle and scrolled through Instagram while he waited for it to boil. He fixed his tea, and then decided that he should probably have something more substantial for dinner, and also popped a frozen vegetable rice stir fry meal in the microwave. He watched it spin as he sipped his tea, just barely scalding his mouth and throat. He ate his microwave dinner in bed, with a home improvement YouTube video playing on his laptop, like any other well-adjusted adult would. 

When his video was over and he was done eating, he placed the container and his fork on the dresser by his bed and rolled himself to the end of his bed. He was cozy and his stomach was full, he was not about to make any unnecessary movements. He reached his long arm down and grabbed the green present that was abandoned where he was sat earlier. He didn’t really want to ruin the perfect gift wrapping, like seriously it looked out of a catalogue, but he probably shouldn’t just keep his new socks and shirts wrapped in a pretty gift just because a pretty boy wrapped it for him. 

Dan carefully slid the black ribbon off the package, not wanting to untie it and ruin its perfection. He scooted over towards the wall and carefully hung the ribbon over the only other living thing in his apartment, a little potted aloe plant that sat between all the candles on his windowsill. He sat back up against his headboard and flipped over the package. Instead of just ripping through the paper, he slid his finger under the tape and carefully unfolded it. A fleeting thought ran through his mind. When _was_ the last time he had unwrapped a gift? _Years, maybe?_ Sure, he had received gifts from friends throughout the years, but they had always been a card with a gift card tucked into it or a dinner out on his birthday. And yeah, he did technically receive gifts from brands often. But that wasn’t really the same. It wasn’t the same as unwrapping something that was wrapped purposely as a gift, even if it was just some dumb socks that he bought himself. A strange feeling settled in his stomach, he didn’t know how to feel about it. 

Dan picked up the edge of the paper and pulled it up, letting the contents of it tumble onto his bed. But it wasn’t just a pack of socks and two tee shirts that fell out of it. Dan quirked a brow and hummed as he grabbed the small white rectangle and flipped it over. On it scrawled a phone number with **_If this is weird, pretend I never did it :)_ ** written under the number. 

All Dan could think, grin creeping over his face, was _how can someone’s handwriting be endearing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry I, too, am booing myself for the wikifeet reference


	6. Chapter 6

In what Dan could only refer to as the loosely interpreted, modern day definition of gay panic, he spent the next fifteen minutes after finding Phil’s note pacing his flat from his bed to the front door and back again, phone in hand. The control freak within him should be appreciating that Phil had put the ball in Dan’s court to decide if he wanted to reach out to him. _Which, duh, of course he did._ But the over-thinker within him really, really did not appreciate it. He debated aloud as he paced, trying to figure out what to message Phil that was more chill sounding than he currently felt. Something that wasn’t way too forward, but wasn’t _not_ forward. He couldn’t just say “Hey”, could he? No, that has no personality. But he couldn’t just send him a novel confessing his undying crush, no, he didn’t need to become aware of Dan’s Too Much gene just yet. 

With a loud, overdramatic groan, Dan plopped himself onto his floor. _Isn’t this how teenagers are supposed to feel, not full grown adults?_ He rolled over onto his front, holding his phone close to his face, and tapped out a message. And then proceeded to delete said message, groan, and type a completely different greeting. This process carried on for the better half of half an hour, until he finally gave up and pressed send on a message he wasn’t completely happy with. He told himself that if Phil decided to give him his number after two short interactions that weren’t necessarily cool or suave on Dan’s end, then Dan really shouldn’t need to stress so much about what to say. But Dan stresses and overthinks about everything in his life, regardless, so nothing’s really new here. 

**Dan:** _hi this is dan the guy that bought socks he didn’t need just so he could see the cute department store man again which to be clear is so much more weird than u slipping me ur number so dw about that_

The second he hit send, Dan dropped his phone face down on the floor underneath him and pushed himself up off the floor. He needed to put some distance between him and his phone if he didn’t want to spend the _entire_ time it took for Phil to respond - _if he responds_ , the demon within his brain noted - staring at his phone screen, obsessing over it like he knew he would. 

He barely made it to the kitchen with his dinner dishes and forgotten coffee mug from this morning, _gross_ , when the sound of his phone chiming echoed through the flat. It took pure willpower for Dan to not turn on his heel and run back to it. He surprised himself when he continued on his path, rinsing off and placing his dishes into the dishwasher far more quickly than he ever had before in his life. Once everything was put away, he then allowed himself to dart back over to the spot he left his phone, grabbing it and flinging himself onto his bed. 

**Phil:** _Hi Dan! :) Maybe we can call it even then...two weirdos being weird together cancels out the weird, right? That’s how science works I think._

Dan barely had a moment to snort in response to Phil’s text before another message appeared on the screen. 

**Phil:** _I’m really glad you texted me :) I like never do this kind of thing can you feel my nerves through your phone screen??? I think they’re so loud all of London can feel them._

Dan didn’t even want to know how far into his cheek his dimples were indenting. Phil not only wanted to talk to him, he was _double texting_ him! He had a feeling talking to Phil was going to give his jaw aching after dentist visits and...other activities...a run for his money. He doesn’t know the last time he smiled this much. 

**Dan:** _your nerves????? hello my name is dan i’m a 28 year old disaster that also absolutely never does this kind of thing how do u even speak to a boy?? i couldn’t tell u_

 **Dan:** _tbh i'm shocked the government isn’t barging down my door as we speak my nerves are so loud they might be considered a form of chemical warfare_

In the moment, he didn’t think twice about the contents of his texts, nor that he also send multiple in a row, but he bit at his bottom lip as he read the messages back. At least he warned Phil he was a disaster, if he couldn’t already tell. A piece of skin started to pull up off his lip, caught between his teeth, and Dan only dug his teeth in harder as the three dots appeared on his screen. The dots disappeared, then reappeared again. 

**Phil:** Are you up to anything right now? 

Dan made an inhuman noise as he read Phil’s message, coughing to dislodge the spit and air he just inhaled. He collected himself best he could, and then reread the message again. So this was going to be a booty call type of situation then? Dan couldn’t even be mad about it. He hasn’t played that game in far too long, but he told himself he would let himself have these things now. He was ready. 

Dan took a deep breath through his nose, let it out slowly, and replied. 

**Dan:** _nope_

 **Dan:** _unless you consider watching reruns of bake off til i fall asleep as doing “something”_

He restlessly tapped his thumb against the edge of his phone as he waited for the response. Nerves running rampant. Bottom lip trapped between his teeth again, no amount of chapstick was going to easily fix the damage he was doing. 

But a text didn’t come. Instead he was jump-scared by his phone ringing.

“What the fuck,” he said aloud to the caller ID staring back at him, the name sitting there like it belonged. 

He accepted the call and hesitantly held his phone up to his head. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi!” Phil’s voice was right in his ear. Dan would swear it sounded deeper over the phone. Not like he had memorized what Phil’s voice had sounded like from their two short interactions, nope, he didn’t do that. “I hope this isn’t weird,” he went on, voice going quieter than his greeting, “sometimes I really let my age show with my preference to talk over the phone”. 

Dan snorted, “What are you, like, fifty or something?” he tried to brush off his phone call anxiety and put his phone on speaker, dropping it on the bed so he could have both hands free to fiddle with his blanket. “And I guess it is kind of weird, I’ll have to just do something equally as weird to cancel it out,” he teased. 

Phil’s giggle sounded just as perfect over the phone as it did in real life, Dan didn’t want to stop hearing the sound. “Touché. Also do I look that old?” he squeaked. “I’m 32! I’m still a spring chicken!”

“Alright old man,” Dan quipped. He lowered his voice, “and trust me, you definitely do _not_ look that old. At all.” 

“That’s a relief.” Phil laughed, “Don’t know if I can say the same for you though." 

“Hey!” 

Dan couldn’t believe how quickly they fell into a banter, nothing in his life was ever this easy. He had a fleeting thought that either life was playing a trick on him or this was karma repaying him for having to deal with all the holiday cheer that had been thrown at him lately. 

After a particularly loud fit of giggles (Dan wasn’t sure what they were even laughing about anymore, maybe spurring on the laughter just because they were laughing, like flicking a row of dominos) Phil cleared his throat. 

“I hope this isn’t like...too forward or anything...” Phil paused for a beat, “I probably should be better than assuming you even like boys _and_ would want to go out with me, but I’ve, uh, been doing this whole trying new things thing,” he huffed out a laugh, “and like...trying to prioritize things I want rather than things I need to do. So like...I guess what I’m failing at doing right now is asking you if I could take you out sometime? If like, that’s something that you’d, uh, also want? It’s cool if not I just, you know, _shit_ I told you I was really nervous I don’t do this I ju-”

“Phil,” Dan finally interrupted, not being able to get a word out in edgewise the whole time Phil was basically just word vomiting trying to ask Dan out. _Trying to ask Dan out._ He was doing that, that’s what he was doing. 

Dan beamed. “Phil,” he repeated, “I would _love_ for you to take me out.” 

He heard Phil let out a breath on the other line, “Really?” 

“Yes, really.” Dan laughed, “I’m not sure how much more obvious I can make it that I have a giant flaming gay crush on you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could really think about them. 

“I have a giant flaming crush on you too,” Phil said in a soft voice, sending them both back into a fit of giggles. Dan hugged his arms around himself and wheezed. “But like you know,” Phil began once they both composed themselves again, “I never want to just like, assume?” Dan hummed in agreement. “With the amount of times that people think _I_ am hitting on them when I’m just being nice, I never want to accidentally do that myself,” he explained. 

“Mmm,” Dan rolled over onto his back. “Can’t blame them for that though, a well fit guy like you just breathing in my general direction? I would also start writing my vows,” he teased. 

“Well, consider this me breathing in your general direction then.”

“Oh, he’s got lines!” 

“Yes, and he would like to use them on you.” 

Dan placed the back of his hand against his cheek, unsuccessfully trying to calm the blazing heat that was breaking the surface. He thanked whatever gods that are out there that Phil couldn’t see him right now. 

“We can arrange that.” 

Phil hummed, “You wouldn’t happen to be free tomorrow, would you?” 

Dan barked a laugh, “Phil, you are going to quickly realize that I am always free.” 

“So is that a yes?” Phil chuckled. 

“Affirmative.” 

“I have this idea,” Phil started, audible excitement picking up in his voice, “feel free to say no - I would be just as honored to just take you to dinner or something - but what’s your Christmas threshold?”

Dan furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to question what Phil was on about, but Phil was a step ahead of him, cutting him off before he could even speak. 

“Like before you said you didn’t celebrate so I don’t know if you’re like Jewish or something and if you are, uh, like how for or against you are when it comes to like...general holiday things?” Phil explained, “I just have this idea of where I want to take you and it’s a bit...festive. It’s not _necessarily_ Christmassey, but I know that everyone is different and everyone has different comfort levels when it comes to these things...so basically what I’m trying to ask, while still being vague because I think it would be cute to surprise you if we did go where I’m planning, is if something like that would make you uncomfortable? We can totally just do a regular dinner instead though, that’s okay with me!”

When Phil finally stopped monologuing, Dan spoke up, “Jeez Phil, did you even take a breath that whole time?” He laughed, mostly to break the tension in his own chest. 

Phil just sounded so excited, and had he thought up of a whole plan to surprise Dan with some secret date? Before he even knew that Dan would actually message him? God, it sounded _stupid romantic_ and Dan wanted that so badly. He wanted it so badly that he surprised himself when he spoke up again. 

“One, not Jewish or like, any other religion really. I don’t celebrate anything so like, you don’t have to worry on that front.” He could hear Phil hum on the other line and Dan took a breath, “I used to celebrate Christmas. Not anymore.” He didn’t know why it felt weird to say that aloud, maybe it was because Phil was still technically a stranger. Or maybe, because it wasn’t with the thick melodrama that he used when he would complain about the holidays on his social media. “I’ll give you the green light for whatever,” Dan scrunched up his nose in disgust, “ _festive_ secret location you have planned, but you should know I like, really hate Christmas.” 

Phil gasped, it sounded so genuine and shocked that Dan couldn’t help but laugh. 

“No, no! Don’t do that, I didn’t just confess to killing the Queen, come on,” Dan chided. 

“You, but you...you just said you H worded Christmas!” Phil exclaimed, sounding absolutely shocked. 

“Phil, its okay you can say hate,” Dan shook his head, snorting. 

“Not when its about Christmas!” Phil yelled, not unlike a toddler. And Dan was starting to get the impression that maybe Phil wasn’t just a poor unfortunate soul forced to dress like a Christmas advert by his job. He said as much to Phil. 

“Well…I may only work at John Lewis just so I can work the Christmas Shop every year…” Phil conceded, and Dan could almost hear the pout in his voice. 

He sighed, but was surprised with how fond he felt when he really should feel annoyed. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asked to the ceiling.

“What have _I_ gotten myself into?” Phil quipped back. “A _Christmas hater!_ ” he sounded so scandalized that Dan was holding back tears of laughter. _Fuck,_ he was so fond. “Here I was, thinking, ‘oh, there’s this cute boy who might also be into me and he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but that’s okay, because maybe that means I can just accept some Hanukkah into my life, you know, I’m always looking for excuses to celebrate everything this will be great’ and it turns out you just” Phil lowered his voice, barely above a whisper, “ _hate_ Christmas!” Despite his tone, Phil laughed along with Dan. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of trauma to unpack about that. Like solid fourth date level trauma, if you still even want to go out on the first one?” Dan tried to keep his tone light and jokey, not wanting to go there yet. 

“Oh no no, I’m incredibly smitten with you already, Dan, I want to take you out. We can just go for dinner, maybe see a movie or something? Festive Lester won’t take offense to your heathenous opinions.” 

“Wait, hold on. _Who?”_

“Festive Lester, that’s what they call me!” Phil said proudly. 

“If I agree to whatever your secret festive plans are, will you promise that I will never have to call you that...or hear yourself call you that...ever again?” Dan bargained, unsure why he was even agreeing to all this, when just the twinkle lights on the trees outside his flat made him nauseous. 

“Deal!” Phil shouted and a crash could be heard through the phone, alongside a soft “ow” from Phil. “No _you_ just jumped off the couch to fist pump and hit _your_ toe on the coffee table,” Phil whined. “Not me. You have no proof.” 

“Sure, Phil.” Dan smiled. “You know, you’ll probably learn soon enough that this is very out of the realm of normal for me. I’m mostly just agreeing to this because I like you and you made some secret surprise date sound so _romantic_ and, hell, I could use some wooing,” he’s not sure why he’s being so honest. Maybe because it’s been so long. Maybe it’s just Phil. 

“Oh Daniel, I am going to romance the _fuck_ out of you.” 

Later that night, after a time had been set for Phil to come pick Dan up - _yeah, like a real, proper thing_ \- and goodnights had been said, Dan fell asleep once again dreaming of blue eyes and stupid, awful jingle bells. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen I am really attempting to post these chapters at noon my time (EST) everyday but as I was editing this chapter Phil decided to post a video _and_ reply to me so naturally I got distracted for three hours.....maybe by Christmas I'll finally get myself into a good routine of posting....maybe.....


	7. Chapter 7

Apparently the prospect of an actual date with an attractive man, that wasn’t just an obligatory precursor to a one time hookup, still isn’t enough to get Dan out of bed before late morning. Any attempts at a few more minutes of sleep were futile by the time the afternoon sun was peeking through Dan’s curtains, bright light somehow finding a way to beam directly into his eyes. He earned himself an extra hour wrapped up in his soft blanket cocoon as he held his phone close to his face, scrolling through his Twitter feed and his unread emails. 

When he looked at the time, he locked his phone and tossed it on the empty pillow next to him, grumbling and stretching as he hyped himself up to pull his body out from under the warm blankets. 

Another five minutes later, he was making his way into his kitchen in nothing but his pants. He clicked on the kettle and began his usual routine while he waited for it to heat up. The whirring of the coffee grinder broke the quiet morning trance that had fallen over his flat. Dan dumped the coffee into his french press and pulled himself up out of his hunched posture, back making a particularly satisfying pop as he straightened himself out. The kettle beeped at him and he poured the steaming water into the press. 

He stuck his head into the fridge while he waited for his coffee to be ready to be pressed, grabbing an apple, then a knife from his knife block. He haphazardly cut the apple into slices directly on a plate, with little regard for knife safety, and spooned a mound of peanut butter onto the plate. When he decided his coffee had been sitting for an acceptable amount of time, he blindly grabbed a mug out of the cabinet, and pushed the plunger down. The strong, nutty smell of coffee filled the room - and in turn, his whole flat - as he poured the liquid into his cup and tapped the press against the side of his bin to dislodge the grounds. 

Dan had his breakfast in his usual spot, back in bed wrapped up in his blankets, staring out the window down at the busy street below. He had quite a while until Phil would be picking him up, which still sounded absolutely unbelievable in itself. Dan decided to channel his nervous energy into planning and shooting new Instagram content, he would be obsessing over his looks because he was seeing Phil later anyways, _might as well get a good picture or two out of it_. 

He knew he needed to backlog a bunch of non-sponsored pictures to post as well, considering brands always increase their advertisements right before Christmas. Maybe that was the _one_ thing in the positive column for this time of year. Over the years, Dan found he was always bringing in the most money in the winter months, and he had to be aware of how that came across. People wouldn’t want to follow him, they wouldn’t trust his advice or recommendations, if his page was entirely advertisements. So he would also kick up his frequency of general, non-sponsored posts as well. 

Once he was done with breakfast, had made his bed, and put away his dishes, he threw on one of his productive playlists and dug through his closet. He picked out a handful of pieces from his closet and hung them up on the clothing rack by his bed. He sorted them into three different looks, pulling a denim jacket that was already on the rack to sit next to one of them, and tossing a scarf from his closet over another. He set out three different pairs of shoes on the floor by the rack, underneath each of their respective outfits. When he had deemed all outfits acceptable - a quick scroll down his feed to make sure they all had aspects that were fresh and new enough to not be seen as a complete repeat - he considered his work done for the moment and headed into the bathroom for a shower. 

If you asked if Dan took twice as long as he usually does in the shower, singing along to his music and scrubbing every inch of his body with his nicer, more expensive body wash, well, he wouldn’t even deny it. He was in a good mood.

Of course he was nervous though, he hadn’t been on a real date in god knows how long, and his brain didn’t entirely love the fact that he had no idea where they were even going. He had very little control over the night to come, which his brain _really_ hated. But at the same time, he wanted to give up that control and see what happens. That was the whole reason he agreed to a secret, _somewhat festive_ , date, it was a plunge right into the deep end. _Okay, maybe not the whole reason,_ he thinks of Phil. The heat in his cheeks no longer just from the shower steam. 

When Dan gets out of the shower, he does his usual skincare and hair routine, sans blow drying it. He wanted to let the products sit on his wet hair as it air dried, so it would be smooth and fluffy, with well defined curls, rather than puffy and frizzy like it would be if he blasted it with heat. As he went through his routine, he noticed how chipped his nails were, so he sat himself on the toilet lid with nail polish remover and a cotton pad and wiped off the black bits that remained. He replaced his towel with a clean pair of pants, he has no comment on whether they were his _nicest_ , silkiest pair or not, and headed out of the bathroom. 

Dan tapped at his phone until it displayed the time as he sat on the edge of his bed by his dresser. Before digging through his drawer for the clear glitter polish he wanted on his nails this week, he sent out a good morning - er, good afternoon - text to Phil, inquiring about the dress code for whatever they were doing later. He painted his nails then scrolled through Instagram while he waited for them to dry, so he wouldn’t be tempted to touch every single object in his flat while they were still wet. His phone dinged twice in his hand. 

**Phil:** _Hi Dan :)_

 **Phil:** _Dress warm and comfortable? Nothing fancy or anything like that though._

Before Dan could even begin to type a response, another message popped up. 

**Phil:** _Unless you want to dress fancy, in that case please let me know so I don’t embarrass myself :)_

Dan smiled as he stared at his phone. It was funny that Phil was worried about potentially embarrassing himself when one, Dan was the biggest embarrassment in the world, and two, considering what he, himself, wore to work. In that moment, it occurred to him that he had only seen Phil in absolutely ridiculous Christmas getups, and part of him wondered if he would show up at his door in a similar fashion. Another part of him wondered why that thought didn’t really even bother him. He was going soft. 

**Dan:** _k got it warm and not fancy_

He sent off a thumbs up emoji with it. With a bite of his poor chapped bottom lip, and a fleeting thought to dig through his bathroom for that lip scrub he got in PR when he got back up, he tapped out another quick message. 

**Dan:** i'm like really excited for tonight ty for this 

Almost instantly a reply came back. 

**Phil:** Don’t know why you’re thanking me, I should be thanking you :) But me too, I’ll see you at 7:30? 

**Dan:** yeah :) 

Dan leaned back and patted around his bed for his phone charger, plugging it in, and then getting back up to finish getting ready and start on the work he needed to do. 

The next few hours went by quickly. He got all of the shots he needed for his next three non-sponsored posts in record time, mostly attributed to the extra pep in his step from thinking about Phil. He forewent lunch, as he had woken up and eaten breakfast at most normal people’s lunchtime, and just had a few snacks of nuts and crisps as he worked instead. He posted one of the pictures he took to his feed. It was the look he chose with the scarf and a coat, a full body pose in front of his white wall - his dining table pushed to the other side of the room up against the bathroom door. He tagged the brands he was wearing head to toe and added the caption: **_where are my layers people at the season is finally upon us and we can become our ultimate form a sentient mountain of impossibly interwoven knitted fabrics getting more powerful with every garment_ **. 

Once he rearranged his flat back to normal, he had about an hour left until Phil would be picking him up, so he set about the impossible task of picking out an outfit to wear on his date. His _date._ His _date_ with _Phil!_ He was definitely going soft, how did this happen? 

Dan pulled on his favorite pair of ripped black jeans. He didn’t like to be narcissistic. Even though it was basically a job requirement, his brain mostly wouldn’t let him be narcissistic anyways. But one thing he knew for sure, was that these jeans made his legs and thighs look _incredible._ They almost made up for the fact that he had a bit of, what he called, a pancake ass. 

He stood in front of his closet, flipping through all of his different jumper and sweater options for far more time than he would like to admit. He eventually decided to go with one of his favorites, shutting the closet door and walking over towards his clothes rack. He tugged the black and white striped sweater off the rack and over his head, and pulled his long, warm parka off it’s hanger and tossed it on his bed. He actually remembered to pull his black, knitted Givenchy gloves out of his dresser drawer, and he tucked them into a coat pocket. While he was in the drawer, he also traded the plain black socks that were on his feet for a different pair of fuzzy, thicker black socks, and then pulled on his trusty Alexander McQueen boots. 

Once he had done his fiftieth hair check in the bathroom mirror and added yet another layer of chapstick to his lips, he grabbed his coat and his phone and sat himself down at the breakfast bar. He needed to dangerously teeter on a chair to calm his nerves, otherwise he would be running circles around his flat.

He passed the time by reading the comments on his recent post, so caught up in liking and replying to comments that when his buzzer rang through his flat he nearly tipped his chair all the way backwards. He only narrowly caught himself, hand clenched on the countertop for dear life. Once he realized he wasn’t about to die, he slid off the chair and buzzed Phil in. He was sure his heart was racing for more reasons than just from being an idiot. 

He pulled his jacket on and triple checked that he had his phone, wallet, and anything else he needed. That apparently included looking down at his feet to double check that he had _shoes_ on, which of course he did. Just as he was grabbing his keys, there was a knock at the door. 

Dan took a deep breath, patted his pockets for a fourth time, and opened the door with a smile. 

There were so many different reasons for why Dan’s breath was caught in his throat. Phil was stood at the other side of the door, all bright eyes and a warm smile. He looked so different, but also exactly the same. Phil’s eyes were just as blue ( _and green...and yellow,_ Dan’s mind supplied). His dark brown hair was styled in a perfect quiff, and - _thankfully -_ there was not a hat, nor headband, with jingle bells affixed to it covering it. Dan let his eyes roam down Phil’s body, noting that he was dressed completely normal. No elf costume or mistletoe to be found (Dan won’t admit how he was a bit sad about the latter). Instead, he was in a greenish-brown coat with a big, fluffy tan hood, an incredibly normal pair of black skinny jeans, with black Vans high tops. He was _hot._ Like, heartbreakingly attractive. Even if Dan thought the coat was a bit ugly. _Hey_ , what can he say...he _was_ a fashion influencer. 

Dan looked at Phil and didn’t know what to do with himself, especially since he saw he was holding out a single yellow orchid in a small white pot towards Dan. 

“Hi,” Dan said, breathlessly. 

“Hey,” Phil grinned, and pushed the potted flower into Dan’s hands. “I, uh, saw this and it made me think of you...so this is for you.” 

Dan looked from the flower in his hand back up to Phil, a soft expression on his face. “Thank you, here let me just-” and he motioned with his head for Phil to follow him as he stepped back into his flat and placed the flower on the breakfast bar. 

“I like your place,” Phil hummed from behind Dan. Dan still had his back turned, admiring the orchid, needing a moment before he turned back around and faced Phil. 

“I’d give you the grand tour, but this is pretty much it,” Dan replied with a wet laugh, lifting an arm to wave in the general direction of the room, willing the moisture that was desperately trying to form behind his eyes away. He ran a gentle thumb over a petal on the flower. 

“It’s nice...it’s much different to mine. I’m a bit of a clutter fiend.” Phil chuckled, “And color fiend.” 

“I bet,” Dan turned back around, finally trusting his eyes to not betray him. “Thank you for this. Really, it’s like...too beautiful and too alive to be in my home.” 

Phil giggled. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to keep it alive, its been sitting in my flat all afternoon, its seen some things,” he said in a grave voice. 

“Excuse me?” Dan raised his brows. 

“I’m a bit of a plant murderer,” Phil said guiltily, “But I love plants! The ones in my flat are just...a little...crispy.” 

“Well, do you water them?” 

“Yes!” 

“Phil…” 

“I swear, I do!” 

Dan shook his head and the two of them fell into a fit of laughter. Dan didn’t know why he had any nerves to begin with. Being with Phil felt so easy. Phil didn’t feel out of place in his flat, even though he probably should have. 

“Come on, I’ve got a car waiting,” Phil stepped back towards the door once they collected themselves. Dan followed, locking his door behind them. 

“Splashed out on a taxi?” Dan teased as they waited for the lift to take them down. “You’re really taking the whole _romancing the fuck out of me_ thing seriously, huh?” he bumped his shoulder against Phil’s. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started, Danny boy.” Phil matched Dan’s teasing tone. 

“Never call me that again.” Dan huffed as he exited the elevator. Phil pointedly ignored him and repeated himself from behind him. 

Dan realized, as he was squished up next to Phil in the back of the cab, that he still had no idea where they were going. He could be looking out the window to at least see what direction they were heading in, but he’d much rather just look at Phil. Phil, who was animatedly telling Dan his work stories from the day, about how a man had immediately unwrapped the gift he asked Phil to wrap, and how he had to de-escalate a situation in which a teen had told their younger sibling that Santa wasn’t real right at the register. Phil moved his hands around a lot as he spoke, far too much for the cramped back of a taxi with two men over six foot in it. 

Dan was so engrossed in Phil’s story, and just Phil in general, that he didn’t notice the car had stopped until the driver had announced their arrival. They thanked the driver. Phil handed over some money, while loudly shushing Dan’s attempts at offering to chip in and gently shoving him out the door. 

Dan stepped onto the pavement and looked around, confusion on every inch of his face. “Phil...I enjoyed your awkward stranger interaction stories, but I didn’t really think you’d be taking me to your job.” He turned his head away from the department store’s sign to look at Phil, who was standing next to him. 

“Trust me?” was Phil’s response, stepping forward towards the storefront, hand outstretched for Dan to take. 

“I probably shouldn’t,” Dan said in a soft voice, taking Phil’s hand anyways. And he let Phil pull him along. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I mostly chose orchids because I know Dan has a bit of an affinity for them, but also yellow orchids mean new beginnings and friendship... if you believe in all those flower meanings. Only 'til literally yesterday (i wrote this chapter in november) when I was like "I wonder what dnps birth flowers are" did I find out that Phil's birth flowers are orchids...cute right? I had no idea...also Dan's are roses...perfect for his dramatic ass tbh.


	8. Chapter 8

Phil’s hand felt soft and warm in Dan’s. Instead of paying attention to where Phil was taking him, Dan was thinking about how Phil’s hands were just a smidge smaller than his own. He wondered what it would feel like to lace their fingers together for real, even though the way their hands were haphazardly clasped together as Phil pulled Dan through a side door, still somehow felt so soft and gentle. 

Although the department store was clearly closed for the night, it wasn’t as dark or empty as Dan assumed it would be. A handful of employees and cleaners buzzed about. The lighting of the store felt a little off, but didn’t seem to be different than normal operating hours. Phil had dropped Dan’s hand after they walked into the store, a small whine coming from Dan’s throat in response. But he couldn’t even be upset as he followed Phil, watching as he walked a step ahead of Dan, greeting and being greeted by every employee they passed. The various interactions squeezed at Dan’s heart. It was like Phil brought such a bright and cheerful aura to everyone he interacted with. So many genuine looking smiles, and ‘ _Oh! Hey Phil', '_ _Good to see you, Phil’,_ like it was a highlight to someone’s day just to run into Phil. Which, Dan thought he already agreed with. 

“Come on, I just have to pick something up real quick,” Phil instructed, leading them through a door marked **EMPLOYEES ONLY** and walking down a short hall. Dan stood a pace behind Phil as he stopped at an open office door. Phil peeked his head around the doorframe and Dan heard a “Phil! Great, you’re right on time,” come from within the office. 

Phil turned back to Dan and held a long finger up, and he stayed put as Phil disappeared into the room. Dan leaned against the hallway wall and did what he did best, which was eavesdrop on strangers’ conversations. 

Phil and the other voice exchanged pleasantries, and then, much to Dan’s dismay, lowered into more hushed tones. Dan played with the zip of his jacket as he listened to the unintelligible whispers. A deep, hearty laugh rang through the hall, followed by the voices getting closer and louder. 

“The panel is at the top of the stairs, use that key,” the unfamiliar voice instructed, the sound of jangling keys following suit. “The other is a master. It will get you in upstairs and lock the east side door.” Dan could hear Phil “Mhm” and “Uh-hum”-ing as the deeper voice spoke. 

Phil re-appeared through the doorway, this time accompanied by an older man in a dark suit. He had silvery-grey hair and a matching beard. 

“Thank you so much for this, Jack!” Phil shook the man’s hand. 

“Anything for my favorite elf,” Jack smiled at Phil, and nodded towards Dan in a silent greeting, before heading off down the hallway in the direction Dan and Phil came from. 

“Phil, please do not forget to lock back up!” he shouted over his shoulder as he walked away, “And I expect those back on my desk first thing tomorrow. Or I’ll have your head!” 

“Yes, sir!” Phil called back, a huge grin on his face. 

“You boys have fun!” and with that, Dan and Phil were alone in the staff only hallway. 

Dan looked at Phil with nothing short of fondness in his eyes, “Should I even ask?” He was alarmingly not nervous, even though as the night progressed he became more and more confused by what Phil was up to. _Why were they at Phil’s job after it closed? Why was Phil fiddling with a set of industrial looking keys with a slightly shaky hand?_

Phil pulled his gaze from the keys that they were both looking at and met Dan’s eyes. Dan squinted back at him. He couldn’t decipher the look Phil was giving him, and he didn’t like it. 

“Nope.” Phil finally responded with an exaggerated pop of his lips. He held his hand that wasn’t holding the keys out to Dan. This time, Phil gently locked their fingers together, and tugged Dan down the hallway and into a lift. It didn’t feel like he was holding Dan’s hand to pull him along, like before, it felt like he was holding Dan’s hand because, _well_ , because he wanted to hold Dan’s hand. Dan felt warm all over. 

Phil pressed the very last button on the lift panel and they began their ascent. “This okay?” Phil looked up at Dan, holding up their connected hands between them. 

Dan bumped his shoulder against Phil’s, “Yeah, s’okay.” His voice was hoarse and low, he cleared his throat, “More than okay.” They shared a small smile. 

“Good, good, cool.” Phil hummed and gave Dan’s hand a squeeze. “I wasn’t sure with like...people around...before. I should’ve asked instead of just taking your hand as quickly as I dropped it, sorry about that.” 

The same understanding look passed over their faces, Dan squeezed Phil’s hand back. “That’s alright, don’t apologize.” Dan hated this. Well, he didn’t hate standing shoulder to shoulder with Phil, holding hands, in a small employees only lift. He hated that they had to have this conversation. He hated the way he had, and would have, to always have this conversation with every new relationship he formed in his adult life. 

Dan sighed. “I spent most of my life denying myself of who I was, after that even longer of not letting myself have this,” he tapped his middle finger against Phil’s knuckle, “I feel like I owe it to myself to be okay with it. The last five years of my life have been a lot of making up for lost time.” 

Phil nodded, “I’m not always okay with it.” Dan hummed in understanding. The lift dinged, doors opening in front of them. 

They stepped out and Phil lead them down another long hallway. “It’s like,” he began to explain - holding up his free hand with the keys to gesticulate with, the chatter of them reminding him of Phil’s jingle bells - “I’m out. I’ve been out for almost half my life. Yet sometimes, I still feel like I have to hide, like no matter how far we come I’ll never feel safe one hundred percent of the time.” 

“We’re on the same page,” Dan hummed. They were stopped at a door at the end of the hall, **Authorized Personnel Only** warned them in large red lettering. “I’m out too,” he added in a small voice, “well, kind of, I guess, more recently than you,” he mumbled as Phil was fiddling with a key in the lock of the door. “That’s a whole other story for another time, though.” 

“Fourth date material?” Phil opened the door, all that was behind it was a single flight of stairs with an identical door sat at the top. 

“Fourth date material,” Dan agreed, a bit shocked that Phil had remembered, and also understood. This time, it didn’t seem like one of Dan’s self-deprecating jokes to brush off a topic, it seemed like Phil meant it. Dan didn’t know what to do with the feelings that bubbled up to the surface with that realization. He chose to file them away. 

“Mm.” Phil looked at Dan with a smile, then lead him up the stairs. 

Dan’s heart pounded in his chest, the mixture of a slightly emotion-heavy conversation, paired with the nervous excitement of ‘ _where the fuck is Phil taking me?’_ doing little to calm it. 

“You know, I didn’t think I was signing up for cardio when I agreed to this,” Dan joked, actually a bit out of breath, in an attempt to push a bit of that emotionally charged air out of the small stairwell. 

Phil laughed, “You’re going to hate this then.” He dropped Dan’s hand and turned to push another key into a box that was affixed to the wall at the top of the stairs. 

“I don’t think I could hate anything that involves you,” Dan said, his genuine honesty counteracting the joke. _Man,_ Phil really had some affect on him. 

Phil made a sort of strangled noise in response, popping open the door of the box and flicking on a row of switches. He swung the door shut and turned back to Dan. He looked nervous, his bottom lip tugged in by his teeth, and eyebrows furrowed so tightly together that Dan felt compelled to run a thumb between them to smooth the stressed skin out. 

“I mean it. Unless you are, like, planning to murder me...or even worse...make me wear your elf costume, I won’t hate it.” Dan grabbed at Phil’s hand and slotted them together again. 

Phil giggled and the tightness of his face eased a bit, “Guess I’ll have to cross that off my kinks list then.” 

“The murder or the elf costume?” 

“I can’t disclose _all_ my secrets on the first date, Danny boy, gotta preserve the mystery.” Phil waggled his eyebrows and Dan let go of his hand to affectionately shove at his shoulder. 

So there they were, in an odd stairwell somewhere in John Lewis, doubled over in fits of giggles. And it was there that Dan decided if that was the extent of their date, if that was all Phil planned, it still would’ve made it to Dan’s top three. 

But it wasn’t the destination that Phil had planned. Once they had caught their breath, Phil turned a key in the door in front of them, then was shuffling behind Dan on the small landing at the top of the stairs. 

“Okay, trust me again?” Phil’s breath was right in Dan’s ear. He shivered. 

“You know you’re not helping the case against you being a murderer like that, right?” Dan replied, but hummed a soft " _yeah, yeah okay"_ when Phil tentatively held his hand right in front of Dan’s face, silently asking if he could cover Dan’s eyes. 

Dan could see through Phil’s fingers, but he could feel the slight tremor in Phil’s warm hand against his face, so instead of alerting Phil he just closed his eyes as well. 

With the loss of one sense, he was hyper aware of the sound of Phil’s breathing and the click of the door opening. Dan felt Phil’s other hand barely brush against his hip as he guided him forward. Dan could feel, instead of see, when they exited the stairwell. The loud city soundtrack, that was previously muted by the department store’s thick concrete walls, was now cranked up to max. Chilly November air bit at Dan’s cheeks. They were outside? But they were high up? 

They were on the roof, Dan deducted. He felt silly that he didn’t realize that’s where they were headed sooner, given the ride to the top floor, paired with the trip up another flight of stairs. _But why?_

“I know you said you wouldn’t, but if you hate this please tell me and we can go right back down. And I can take you to my favorite Indian spot instead,” Phil said, all in a rush, in his ear.

“Phil, are you going to throw me off the roof?” Dan deadpanned, once again trying to use humor to calm his racing heart and Phil’s shaking hands. 

Phil just squeezed at his side and dropped his hand from his face. Dan opened his eyes with the movement and he was rendered speechless. 

They _were_ on the roof, Dan confirmed as he peered straight ahead at all the other surrounding buildings’ rooftops. But that wasn’t the focal point of what was in front of him. They were surrounded by lush greenery. Neatly trimmed green hedges lined the roof, and small potted evergreen trees were everywhere. Dan pressed a booted foot further into the floor, feeling the green astroturf squish beneath it. Soft, white fairy lights were everywhere. Wrapped around trees and the hedges, and most notably - as Dan looked upward, lips parting in awe - strung in rows above their heads. To one side, there were a handful of little sheds and buildings, with benches and picnic tables scattered around them. Opposite the buildings, directly in front of where Dan and Phil were stood by the side door they came out of, was a small ice rink. 

Dan turned his head to look back at Phil, who was still hovering behind him. Phil ran a hand through his hair, there was a nervous look on his face - even though Dan was sure his own expression was full of wonder. For the second time that night, Dan willed the wetness behind his eyes to _go the fuck away_. This time, though, he was looking right at Phil instead of away. 

“Do you want to go?” Phil spoke up in a small voice. And Dan couldn’t stop himself from barking out a loud laugh, the sound echoing off the roof and melting into the city noises below. 

Dan should hate this. He turned his head back to survey the terrace one more time, then turned on his heel to completely face Phil. He should hate this. He should be feeling that sick in his stomach, rough squeeze of his heart, feeling that he has always felt over the past five years when looking at displays like this. His face should be pulled into a grimace. The hurt that he buried deep in his heart was clanging pots and pans together, yelling at him to say _yes_ to Phil, to _leave_. 

But Dan didn’t want to leave. He didn’t feel the bile coming up. He did feel a smile creep onto his face. There was a squeezing feeling in his chest. But it wasn’t sharp, it wasn’t painful, it was just a gentle press and release like Phil’s hand on his earlier. It was an ‘I _’m here and I get you’_ instead of a ‘ _get out, we don’t understand you’._ Dan could feel the difference. 

Deep down, he knew he laid misplaced blame on a holiday, a time of year, to cope with feelings he didn’t want to deal with. A Christmas-hating shaped band-aid slapped on an open wound. But for the first time in five years, he was surrounded by something undeniably _festive_ and he didn’t feel the wound ache. It was there, he knew it was there, but it wasn’t throbbing for attention. His mind allowed him this moment, to push aside the usual intrusive thoughts to think of Phil instead. Phil, who had somehow managed to get them on the roof of a department store, alone, and with a _fucking ice skating rink._ Phil, who knew very little about Dan, yet still managed to hit some sort of nail on some sort of head. 

This time, Dan did step forward and reached a hand up to Phil’s face. He brushed his thumb over the space between his brows, pushing away the worry. Phil’s face softened, but his eyes still darted back and forth between Dan’s, looking for an answer. 

“A first date,” Dan finally spoke, his voice teetering above its usual octave, “and you do all _this?_ ” Dan could feel his bottom lip wobble, but he wasn’t going to cry. “Who _are_ you, Phil Lester?” Dan grabbed both of Phil’s hands in each of his, both of them no longer warm from the chilled air, but still just as soft as before. 

“Just a guy.” Phil shrugged, the movement forced and too casual for Phil’s still worried, searching expression. 

“Understatement of the century.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just imagine the look on my face when I was googling what department stores in London get festive enough to _realistically_ have the stereotypical Christmas elf employee and seeing that john lewis has _actually_ put an ice rink on their roof before....the serendipity of it all (if u do a cheeky google u can see what it looked like and what I was envisioning, only major difference really is that I'm writing an _actual_ real ice rink and I picture it a bit bigger than what they had)...these cliche holiday romances really write themselves


	9. Chapter 9

“So you don’t hate it?” Phil said softly, mostly to Dan’s feet as he looked down at their hands. 

“I hate that I love it,” Dan replied, truthfully. “How did you even think of this? How did you even manage to do this?” he asked, letting go of one of Phil’s hands to turn back towards the rest of the roof. 

Phil stepped up next to Dan, tugging on his hand a bit to walk them around the space. “Well I knew they were setting this up this year, and it’s not open to the public until later this month, so I called in some favors,” he said casually. He explained to Dan all the different events and activities they offered as they strolled. Dan noted, out of the corner of his eye, every so often Phil would hold out his other hand to brush against one of the little fir trees as they passed. 

The short tour ended at one of the small cabin-like sheds that Phil said was used as a food stall. Phil left Dan leaning over the counter, where he told him to stay, and disappeared behind the shed. With the loss of Phil’s hand, Dan became hyper-aware of how cold his hands were, and thanked his past self for remembering to bring a pair of gloves. He pulled them on, and was startled mid-act by Phil noisily pulling up the shutter from inside the stall. 

“Hi,” Dan smiled when he was once again face to face with Phil. 

“Hi,” Phil returned the smile, grinning so hard his lips parted and the tip of his tongue poked through his teeth. _God, he is so fucking cute,_ Dan thought. And then Dan realized he could say that kind of thing aloud. 

“God, you are so fucking cute.” 

Dan watched as Phil’s cheeks flushed, knowing that it could not just be attributed to the cold. 

Phil scrunched up his nose. “That was kinda gay,” Phil giggled. 

“Yeah it was,” Dan joked back. 

Phil shook his head, smiling. “So,” he leaned his elbows on the counter, “They don’t have food back here yet, but they do have the bar stocked.” Phil raised his eyebrows, “Do you drink?” 

Dan hummed, “What are you making me, barkeep?” 

Phil turned towards the array of alcohol behind him and grabbed a bottle of vodka off the shelf. He turned back towards Dan and placed the bottle on the bar, bending down out of sight. A few clattering noises were added to the buzz of the city before Phil popped back up. Two copper mugs were in his left hand and he was cradling a few other bottles in his right arm. “I can make a mean Moscow Mule.” 

“Hit me.” Dan leaned himself up against the counter and watched as Phil constructed their drinks. He was mesmerizing to watch - _mostly because he’s pretty_ , Dan’s mind supplied - even though he wasn’t as graceful making drinks as he was wrapping gifts. Phil dropped the bottle of simple syrup, ‘ _Don’t worry it’s plastic!’_ Phil squeaked as it clattered to the ground. A rouge cranberry went flying past Dan as he tried to garnish the drinks. 

Phil nudged one of the mugs towards Dan, and Dan took it by the copper handle, inhaling the scent of (probably too much) vodka, ginger, and cranberry. “Thank you,” he said before taking a sip, while Phil was putting all of the bottles away and wiping the liquid he spilled on the bar. He took a sip, _definitely too much vodka,_ and the cold drink warmed him from the inside out. 

Phil soon joined him with his own drink after returning the drink stall to it’s previous, untouched state. He ushered Dan over to a bench that faced out towards the other side of Oxford Street, and there they sat, knee to knee, sipping their drinks and talking the night away. 

Phil told Dan about his family. About his mum and his dad, his older brother and his girlfriend that was already like a sister to Phil. Phil was a big family guy apparently, but he didn’t ask or push Dan when he brushed him off about his own. Dan was thankful for that.

Phil listened as Dan went on an unprompted rant about the state of the world, and they placed a twenty quid bet on whether the earth would implode from climate change or irresponsible governments first. Dan, in true Dan fashion, spurring on the rant by pointing out the two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

Phil told Dan the story of how he got bit by a squirrel on a holiday in Florida. “ _Oh my god, Phil, where did it bite you?” “In Florida!” “Phiiiiil!”_

Dan told Phil the abridged story of how he dropped out of University because studying law made him want to die. And how his side hobby had been picking up, so he decided to focus on that full time. Phil obviously asked Dan what that was, and Dan had to explain his job to Phil, who...surprisingly understood it, which was a first for Dan. 

“ _That’s so cool, Dan! You know, I actually used to do YouTube when I was in uni._ ” Phil had responded, Dan replying with nothing more than a loud, shocked “ _What?”._

Phil explained that he used to love making short, creative films, but had given up the hobby when he needed to get a _real_ job after university. He had just missed out on the boom where people were starting to make real jobs and real money out of YouTube, so he was impressed by Dan's career to say the least. 

“Christmas elf to a department store is what they’re considering a real job now?" Dan quipped, no real judgement in his voice. A slight frown flashed over Phil’s face for a moment, but it was quickly schooled back into a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Phil had shoved at his shoulder, the vodka roughing up his usual gentle, softness just a bit. He pulled out his phone and unlocked it, opening the Instagram app and pushing his phone into Dan’s hand, telling him to follow himself so Phil could stalk his feed later. 

Dan forewent the dirty joke on the tip of his tongue to groan that he had gloves on, and didn’t want to take them off to type. To which Phil pouted and held up his own gloved hands. Dan thought, in that moment, that Phil could get him to do anything with just that one look - so he conceded and did as he was told. He slipped Phil’s phone back into his coat pocket and decided to keep his own hand in there too. He leaned into Phil’s side with the movement. Phil leaned back. 

“So would you like to skate?” Phil asked after they both finished cackling over Dan’s favorite work story, the one when a brand offered to pay him to be a toe ring model. Their drinks were long gone and Dan wasn’t drunk, just pleasantly warm. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Dan lifted his head off of Phil’s shoulder and leaned back to look him in the eye. “You really put alcohol in my system with the intention to _ice skate_ after?” he said incredulously. 

“Come on, we’re barely even tipsy! Of course I’m serious, that’s why I brought you up here!” Phil looked back at Dan, bottom lip jutting out, ever so slightly. 

Dan shook his head with a smile, “Let’s go skate.” Dan reluctantly peeled the rest of his body up and away from where it was pushed up against Phil, and stood up to pull Phil up as well. “I hope you know, I _will_ fall and I _will_ take you down with me,” he warned. 

Phil laughed, “It would be an honor to fall on my ass with you.” 

Phil had another key that unlocked the storage shed full of skates, and went inside to retrieve two pairs in their sizes. As they replaced their shoes with skates, Dan made a passing comment about big feet, earning a smug _‘Shut up’_ from Phil. Phil was quick to get his skates on, and then got on his knees in front of Dan - another joke leaving Dan’s lips, _okay, maybe he was tipsy_ \- and tightened and tied Dan’s laces for him. 

“You’re quite the romantic, huh?” Dan smiled down at Phil, who was currently bunny-ear tying Dan’s left skate’s laces. _Fuck, was everything he did endearing?_

“I guess you could say that,” Phil hummed, getting back up using Dan’s knees for assistance. “You know, one time, I downloaded Grindr just because I wanted to go on a date...” Phil held his hands out for Dan to take and pull himself up, which he did. 

“What?!” Dan shouted, half of London probably hearing the hyena laugh that followed. 

“I wanted someone to woo me, not screw me!” Phil laughed along, and they awkwardly leaned against each other to make the meter’s length journey over to the entrance of the rink. Their four legs looking similar to that of a newborn giraffe as they shuffled over. 

“That’s not where you go for that, Phil!”

“I know that _now!”_ Phil whined, and they were a tall bundle of giggles and shaking limbs as they got to the entrance of the rink and both stepped on, balancing themselves on each other and the glass edge around the rink. 

“I didn’t think this through, did I?” Phil squeaked as he narrowly stopped himself from slipping right on his ass. “We’re going to die up here. We’re going to fall, and crack our heads open, and _die_ up here.” Phil repeated it like a mantra with wide eyes as they both tried to get their footing on the incredibly slick ice. 

“Shhhh,” Dan shushed Phil and decided he felt balanced enough to move his hand from its death grip on Phil’s bicep to his hand. “We just have to work together,” he demonstrated as he lightly pushed off on one of his feet, Phil following suit. He had his own death grip on Dan’s hand, now that he wasn’t clinging to the barrier on his other side. 

“See, we got this,” Dan cooed as they made it the short way to the other end, successfully turning into the bend without toppling over. 

“We got this,” Phil echoed Dan, giving a more enthusiastic push to his foot, speeding them up into a proper skate. It only took a few, less than graceful, laps around the small rink for them to get their footing and skate in sync with each other. Phil even dared to turn in front of Dan, still holding his hand, effectively turning them both around in an uncoordinated spin. They only made a 180 degree turn though, instead of all the way around, due to the fact that they both clumsily fanned out into a line. 

Dan laughed, and pushed them forward again, making their lap in the opposite direction now. “Here,” Dan pulled the same move as Phil, skating a turn in front of him, but grabbing Phil's other hand as well, so they spun in a proper circle. They laughed like children and spun over and over again. They playfully shoved at each other and separated to chase after each other. 

“Dan! I’m like a real figure skater, look!” Phil skated to the center of the rink and dug the toe of one of his skates into the ice, bending his knee, and using his other leg to push himself into a circle. It was uncoordinated and messy, not to mention it wasn’t even really a real spin, but Phil was beaming as he showed his moves off to Dan. 

Dan skated circles around Phil, “Eat your heart out Adam Rippon!” 

They both laughed, and Phil wobbled on his anchored leg. All too soon it was sliding out from underneath him and he was falling right on his bum with an “ _oof”_. 

“Phil! Are you okay?” Dan stopped his circles and skated right up in between Phil’s legs. Which were spread wide open, Phil on his butt, his arms spread out - just as wide as his legs - holding him up as he had braced his fall on them. 

Phil groaned, but it turned into a giggle as he looked up at Dan looming over him. “I’m fine, I’m fine...I’m just gonna,” he attempted to lift his bum up off the ice to no avail, “I’m just gonna sit here and ice my bruised ass.” 

Dan felt compelled to pull his phone out and snap a picture of Phil, ashamed mess of limbs and all, so he did. 

“Hey!” Phil whined, “you should be helping meeeeeee!” Dan huffed a laugh and snapped three more pictures of Phil as he sat up properly and outstretched his arms towards Dan. The exaggerated pout on Phil’s lip could not have been more prominent. 

Dan pocketed his phone and shimmied his legs a bit, so his skates felt more secure shoved in the ice. He bent forward to grab onto Phil’s outstretched hands and pulled him up. Or at least, that’s what he was intending to do. The second Dan was holding a bit of Phil’s weight, Phil halfway back into a standing position, Dan’s legs slid forward and he fell in the exact same form as Phil did previously. But this time, Phil was falling again as well. They toppled over in a heap of tangled limbs and skates, their laughter somehow felt too loud for the bustling city below them. 

Phil let his top half fall back, so he was lying straight down on the ice. He slung a hand over his eyes, and groaned, “There goes my Victuuri dreams!” 

Dan’s mouth popped open at Phil’s words, “Of course you watch anime, how are you so perfect? Where did you come from?” 

“My mums-” Phil started but was interrupted by Dan immediately. 

“Nope!” Dan laughed, “I do not want to think about that right now!” 

“Its natural! It’s the circle of life,” Phil began to half sing, half croak. Dan swatted at Phil’s leg, and scooted over to sit next to him. He pulled out his phone and fell back against the ice, so he was laying next to Phil. 

“I need to document our failures,” Dan explained as he opened his camera and held an arm up above them. 

“You already documented my failure,” Phil whined softly, turning his head against the ice to look at Dan. 

Dan smiled at their image on his phone screen and pressed the capture button a few times, “Yes, I documented _your_ failure, now it’s time to document _our_ failure,” he explained. “Now look up, loser.” Dan scooted over on the ice more, looking not unlike a wiggly worm, and Phil looked up at the camera and smiled. Dan tapped the screen a few more times, then slid his phone into his pocket. 

Dan’s back was cold. And his legs were cold. And his face was cold. He could feel the ache starting to bloom in his muscles, a combination of so much laughter, skating, and hitting the ice making him sore in places he rarely feels sore. He could hear car horns beeping and a drunk person yelling in the streets below. But he was having the _most_ fun. 

He turned his head, and Phil’s face was right there. The tip of Phil’s nose had gone the same red as his cheeks, but his breath was warm against Dan’s face. Phil smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, Dan could see every detail this close. Dan was about to open his mouth, when the loud grumble of his stomach broke their trance. 

Phil giggled, “We should probably go get something to eat.”

“Bold of you to assume I am capable of getting up,” Dan said, accentuating his point by attempting, and failing, at lifting his body back up. 

“We’re going to have to crawl out of here, aren’t we?” Phil replied, in horror. 

“I’m just gonna roll,” Dan announced, shuffling away from Phil and tucking his arms into his body to, quite literally, roll towards the exit. 

“Oh my gosh,” Phil got out between huffs of laughter, “You’re ridiculous!” 

“More efficient than crawling!” Dan called back towards Phil, who was now tentatively butt-scooting across the ice after him. 

Once they were safely off the ice, a good ten minutes later of shuffling and scooting, they sat on the ground by the rink. 

“Is it too soon to say we’re two peas in the same idiot pod?” Dan wondered aloud as they both tugged at each other’s skates to get them off. 

Phil squeaked when Dan’s final skate pulled off, the force of it almost knocking him backwards. “Never too soon,” he replied, a glint in his eye. 

They got their shoes back on and Phil did a quick once over to make sure everything was back in its place. By the time they were headed back out the side door, Phil flicking off all the light switches, the only evidence of their presence was the marked up ice. The once, perfectly smooth and shining surface was now left with many overlapping loops and circles from Dan and Phil’s escapades. 

Dan took Phil’s hand once he had finished locking the electrical box back up, and they made their descent back down to the bottom floor. Dan didn’t know why he felt compelled to keep holding onto Phil’s hand, or to keep his body close to Phil, so he could bump their shoulders together as they waited for the lift to take them down. He would say he wasn’t usually an affectionate person, but that would only be a half truth. He _was_ affectionate, he felt that in his heart. But he rarely had the opportunity to be an affectionate person, so it was unusual for him to be this close to another person. He liked it, he liked it a lot. He liked the way Phil’s hand felt in his, the way Phil would absentmindedly rub his thumb against Dan’s hand, or tap at his knuckles. He liked the way he could give Phil’s hand a gentle squeeze as they were speaking, he liked that it was a language they both seemed to understand. 

“So, what are you in the mood for?” Phil bumped his shoulder against Dan’s with the question. “I was thinking of taking you to my favorite spot, but it’s gotten kind of late for a proper sit down place,” he added, leading Dan towards a side exit down the hall from the lift they just stepped out of. 

“Mm, yeah,” Dan hummed. “I have no preferences,” he thought for a moment then added, “I try to stick to this vegan six days of the week thing though. Technically I used up my cheat day a few days ago, but I’ve been good lately...this week can be five,” Dan explained as they exited the building and Phil made sure the door locked behind them. 

Phil turned to Dan so they were stopped outside the door, an unreadable expression on his face, “I’m not well versed in veganism…do you know of any casual places around here,” he waved his arm in the general direction of the street around them. “that would suit your diet?” 

Dan looked at Phil with soft, wide eyes. “No, no that’s okay, we can go wherever,” he brushed Phil off, not used to someone trying to accommodate him. 

Phil gave him a stern look and squeezed at his hand. “If you know of a place, I want to go,” he insisted. 

“Okay,” Dan bit his lip, hating that for the third time tonight he was telling his brain to cease the tears welling behind his eyes. _Why the fuck was he so emotional?_ Maybe it was because he was hungry. Hangry, but instead of angry he was reduced to a near-blubbering baby anytime Phil showed him basic human decency. “There’s a pizza place just down there,” Dan pointed down the street, “probably a fifteen minute walk. It’s not the best pizza in the world, but they do vegan mozzarella.” 

“Great!” Phil smiled and told Dan to lead the way. They chatted as they walked, seeming to never run out of things to say. Dan learned that they had far more in common than he could have ever guessed. 

Phil had let go of Dan’s hand, but they still walked shoulder to shoulder, and every few minutes Phil would ask Dan if he was _sure_ he wasn’t cold. Dan insisting he wasn’t, though he knew he would be warmer with his hand around Phil’s, slid into Phil’s coat pocket - but he wouldn’t voice that. He understood. It was late on a Saturday night, and they passed all kinds of people along the way, impossible to tell who was safe and who wasn’t. He understood. 

Their long legs got them to the pizza place in record time. They ordered a pizza each, as the time of night lent for the single slices in the case to be sparse. Neither of them were complaining though, as they were both starving. They set up camp at one of the three small tables, and continued to exchange stories as they waited for their pizzas to cook. When their food was ready, they ate directly out of the boxes. Dan and his vegetable pie with vegan cheese, and Phil with the exact opposite, some cheesy barbecue monstrosity that he insisted were the _“best pizza toppings on earth”_. Dan stole a cheeky bite of one of Phil’s slices and fully moaned in the middle of the tiny pizza shop. Phil tried to reprimand him for snatching the slice right out of his hand and cheating his diet, but quickly shut up when Dan began to moan obscenities around the food in his mouth. 

“ _Jesus,_ Dan,” Phil said in a low voice, shaking his head. 

“Let me have this, I’m deprived,” Dan groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, only then registering how unattractive all of what he just did probably was. But when he looked up at Phil, there wasn’t a look of disgust on his face. He was only looking back at Dan with a smirk and fond eyes, shaking his head. 

“I actually hate cheese,” Phil said after trying a bite of Dan’s pizza in retaliation, making a face. “Even this fake cheese.” 

“You _hate_ cheese?” Dan yelled, far too loud for the small space they were in. The man behind the pizza counter looking up from his phone to glare at them. 

“What?” Phil matched his tone, “ _You_ hate Christmas! And you’re a _vegan!_ ” 

“Six days a week, mate, six days a week,” Dan corrected, shaking his head. “Besides, how can me hating Christmas even compare to you _hating cheese,_ yet you ordered extra cheese on that pizza!” Dan poked a greasy finger at Phil’s pizza box. 

“It’s not the same!” Phil pouted, “Cheese is gross, but cheese on pizza is different, it’s good on pizza,” he tried to explain, pointing at Dan’s pizza, “just not that pizza.” Dan just shook his head, how did he manage to find such an impossibly strange man. 

“You are...so weird.”

“You like it,” Phil quipped. 

“I do.” 


	10. Chapter 10

Dan probably looked like a right idiot with the way he was grinning from ear to ear, to himself, on the tube. He couldn’t help it though. He kept replaying every moment of his night in his head, over and over. It somehow felt like the most unreal, but at the same time the most real, night he had ever had. If it wasn’t for the half-empty pizza box sitting on his lap, and the tingling feeling that still buzzed on his cheek from Phil’s lips, Dan would be privy to think the night actually wasn’t real. He felt like a teenager. 

He kept thinking about Phil’s soft hands. He thought about the way he had tried to walk Dan home (Dan saying no, because it was too far for how cold it was outside), and the way he then tried to call Dan a cab (Dan stopping him, because “ _Phil, that’s too much! I can take the tube”_ ), and finally the way he insisted on walking Dan to the underground station. It was there that they said their goodnights, Phil gently placing a hand on Dan’s waist, and leaning in to press a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. Dan had stood there, dumbstruck, as Phil walked away - turning back when he was only a few paces away to wave. Dan watched him as he walked out of sight, before shaking himself out of his stupor and catching his train. 

Dan appreciated the short walk from the tube station to his building. He could feel the energy leaving his legs, that would have otherwise forced him to pace his flat if he had taken a cab. He still didn’t choose to take the stairs when he arrived, he was buzzing with energy but there wasn’t enough energy in the world for him to choose to climb five flights of stairs over taking the lift. 

Lights were flicked on, pizza box was dropped on the kitchen counter, and coat and gloves were shed when Dan walked into his flat. After pulling off his boots, Dan plugged his phone in, tossed it on his bed, and turned the sound back on - he hadn’t wanted to be disturbed earlier. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and then changed into his fuzziest pair of pajama pants and an old, soft jumper. He clicked on the fairy lights on his bed and padded back towards the door to flick off the harsh overhead light. He got distracted after he had poured himself a glass of water to take to bed, a flash of yellow in the corner of his eye. 

Dan placed his glass on the breakfast bar and reached out to touch one of the soft yellow petals. The orchid felt incredibly out of place in his home. Although he had small splashes of color in his wardrobe, he didn’t in his flat. As he admired the pretty flower, he thought that Phil, in his ugly green coat, felt like he fit into the space more than the orchid. Despite that, Dan would love it all the same. He wasn’t good at keeping plants alive, _ask his only remaining aloe plant of the horrors it’s seen,_ but he promised himself he would try his hardest to keep this one alive. He picked the plant and his glass up and stepped away from the breakfast bar, dropping the orchid on his empty white dining table, and then heading to the bed. 

Dan star-fished out on his bed the second he had set down his glass, feeling the ache in his body from the cold, the exercise, and all the falling. He’s not sure how long he laid there for, dozing off into the soft fabric of his duvet. The sound of his phone dinging, and then dinging again, and then again pulled him out of his sleepy haze. He rolled over onto his back, shuffled under the covers, and then grabbed at his phone from where it was plugged in on his pillow. It dinged again in his hand and he unlocked it with a quirked brow. Three more notifications came through before he could even fully focus his eyes on the notification bar. He blinked and stared at the long column of notifications from Instagram on his screen. 

**amazingphil liked your photo.**

**amazingphil liked your photo.**

**amazingphil liked your photo.**

**amazingphil liked your photo.**

Dan scrolled past many, many more of the identical notifications until he hit one that was different, from hours before. 

**amazingphil started following you.**

He shook his head, the grin on his face actually hurt from how much he had used those muscles that night. He forewent opening Instagram and tapped on his messages. 

**Dan:** _are you done?_

A reply came instantly. 

**Phil:** _Nope!_

Four more Instagram notifications pinged in a row. Dan blew air out of his nose.

**Phil:** _Okay_

**Phil:** _Now I’m done :)_

**Phil:** _You’re very handsome, you have a really nice face._

**Phil:** _Okay, that is all, goodnight Dan :)_

Dan snorted. 

**Dan:** _ty_

**Dan:** _your face is nicer_

**Dan:** _goodnight phil_

Dan closed his messages and opened Instagram. He stopped himself from instantly scrolling through the posts on his homepage and tapped over to his notifications. He clicked on Phil’s profile and followed him back, turning on his notifications for good measure. 

The first thing he noticed was that it was definitely a personal Instagram page, unlike Dan’s very structured, carefully crafted feed that was much more business like. The second thing he noticed was the absolute treasure trove of pictures of Phil’s face. His most recent picture was one of him in a garden, in that same ugly coat he was wearing tonight. Dan clicked on it to expand, then tapped it twice. He scrolled down his feed, looking at pictures of Phil in various different places. At beaches, on cliffs, in the UK, in the US, in a cafe holding a mug to his face, sprawled out on a green couch reading a book, in a shelter holding a puppy.

Dan stopped on a picture of Phil with an older woman and man, with the sea in the background. He didn’t have to ask to deduct that they were his parents, Phil so clearly reflected in their faces. Dan felt a funny twinge in his stomach the longer he looked at their smiling faces, so he continued to scroll. He noted that Phil posted a lot of pictures of animals and cocktails, besides the pictures of himself. He also noted that Phil’s feed was as colorful as his personality. 

He snorted when he scrolled to a picture of Phil at work, in his full elf costume, just like the first time he encountered him. He clicked to open it. This Phil staring back at him from his phone screen looked different, a bit younger looking, dark black hair poked out from his dumb elf hat, hanging over his eye. Dan scrolled down a bit more and clicked to comment. All he typed was a row of the about-to-be-sick emoji, pressed post, and then - with a small smile - double tapped the post. 

As much as he wanted to keep scrolling through endless pictures of Phil, he could feel exhaustion seeping through his bones. He closed the app and locked his phone. He had warmed up from the cold - a combination of being burrowed under his blankets and with the way just looking at Phil made his face warm all over - so he pulled off his jumper, tossed it on the floor, and clicked off his fairy lights. With his apartment plunged back into darkness, he snuggled into his sheets, and drifted off to sleep. 

Dan woke up the next morning, once again to the afternoon sun beaming into his eyes. This time, it was worse, as he forgot to pull his curtains shut before going to sleep. He groaned and rolled over, pulling his duvet over his head further, trying to block out the light. It barely helped, the soft grey fabric letting the light shine right through. He sighed, accepting defeat. He shoved his blankets down, greeting the day with an unenthusiastic squint until his eyes adjusted. 

He yawned and stretched, more bones popping than usual. Dan could feel last night’s activities in all the sore muscles of his body. He felt well rested despite that though, the combination of good dreams - he will _not_ disclose - and sleeping in for so long. He searched around for his phone and made a whining noise in the back of his throat at the time. It was Sunday, he could be lazy with no guilt, he decided. 

The second thing he noticed, after the time, was that he had a few texts from Phil. He opened his text chain with him with a smile. 

**Phil:** _Good Morning!_

He noted that two more messages were sent in succession ten minutes later. 

**Phil:** _Is that okay? Can I do that?_

**Phil:** _I was just thinking of you when I woke up…_

Dan huffed to himself. He was getting _good morning_ texts from a cute guy he had a massive crush on. What universe was he living in? When was the hidden camera prank show going to bust through his door? 

**Dan:** _:) good afternoon_

**Dan:** _that is my form of a good morning text btw yr going to have to get used to that if u want to be with me sorry_

He bit his lip and wondered if that was too much. But then he remembered their absolutely perfect, _romantic as fuck_ , date last night and decided that for once, he had a real crush on a boy that was actually requited. He rolled over and shoved his face into his pillow, trying to smother the ridiculous smile on his face. As he did so, his back popped another time and he groaned. He pulled Phil’s text chain back up. 

**Dan:** _also appreciate how much effort u put into last night literally the best date i have ever been on but mate my old feeble body can not handle that much exercise and falling i am withering away in my bed rn_

Dan scrolled through his social media for a bit, refreshing his twitter feed and double tapping Instagram posts, waiting to Phil to message him back. After half an hour went by of Dan mindlessly scrolling and no response from Phil, he decided to pull himself out of bed for coffee. Phil was probably at work, he vaguely remembered the man Phil received the roof keys from saying he had to be in first thing. Phil’s early morning texts made more sense then. 

As Dan went through the motions of making his perfect cup, he became aware of just how much his bum ached from falling last night. He sipped at his coffee and ate a slice of his cold, leftover pizza. When he finished his slice, he decided to take his coffee to the bathroom and run a bath. 

Dan watched as the bath bomb he dropped into the hot water fizzed, leaving a trail of blues and pinks and purples. The entire bathroom smelled of peppermint and coffee. Dan closed his eyes, breathing it in, and then carefully teetered his coffee mug and phone on the edge of the tub. With the confidence that Dan had around using his phone, and sometimes his laptop, in the bath, one would think he had a death wish. He was just lucky that he hadn’t had any casualties yet, and he was too stubborn to be more cautious. 

He shed his clothes and dipped himself into the galaxy bath water, sighing as he slid down. The tub in his flat was only just big enough to fit him, although he had to choose between laying down with his knees up so his top half was fully submerged, or sitting up with his chest out of the water so his bottom half was fully submerged. The dream home, one day, would have a bath big enough for him to fit in it normally. Dan zoned out while he soaked in the bath, his sore muscles soothed from the hot water. 

His phone buzzed and he scrambled to stop it from vibrating off the edge of the tub, wiping his hand on his towel, and looking at the screen. 

**Phil:** _Oh no! I’m sorry!_

**Phil:** _I’m feeling sore too, maybe next time we just go for dinner?_

Dan grinned. Phil had told him he liked him, had taken him out, had kissed him on the cheek, yet somehow the prospect of Phil wanting to take him out again still surprised him and made him feel warm all over. It was like Dan was waiting for all of this to be a dream, and he would wake up with none of this being real. 

He wiped his hand on the towel again and tapped out a reply. 

**Dan:** _if i ever make it out of this bath then u can take me to dinner_

**Dan:** _very unsure if i will ever make it out of here tho god i feel old_

**Phil:** _D:_

**Phil:** _Do you need me to come save you? The Lester’s bath removal and massage service is open for business._

Dan snorted at Phil’s ridiculous message. He rolled his shoulders at the thought of a massage though, his shoulders cracking and popping with the movement. 

**Dan:** _aah do not tease me like that i would DIE for a massage rn_

**Phil:** _I’m not teasing you, I just got off work 5 mins ago, I could be at your place in 20?_

Dan sighed, he wanted to say _fuck it_ and say yes so badly, but he knew that he shouldn’t. As much as he wanted to completely envelop himself in Phil, knowing that Phil didn’t seem to drain him like other people did so he probably _could,_ he knew this early on it wouldn’t be the best idea. But, _ugh,_ a massage sounded _so_ good right now. 

**Dan:** _u don’t know how much i appreciate the offer but i think i’m gonna save a single shred of my decency and dignity and not have u come find me nude in the bath after one date_

**Phil:** _Haa, okay. So is finding you nude in the bath more like after the fourth date territory…?_

**Dan:** _play your cards right and maybe that’ll be an after the second date treat_

**Phil:** _So what are you doing tomorrow night?_

**Dan:** _phil lester you dog_

**Phil:** _Woof :)_


	11. Chapter 11

Dan’s Sunday went by in a blur, it had become late in the afternoon by the time he pulled himself out of the bath. He tidied up his flat a bit, noted that he needed to do laundry soon - but didn’t, and spent the rest of the day catching up on his favorite tv shows. He and Phil texted back and forth throughout the night, Phil telling Dan little anecdotes from his trip to M&S and Dan live reacting to the episodes of Brooklyn 99 he was watching, because Phil was fully caught up. When he was tucked up in bed much later that night, he couldn’t help but decide that he loved this new, sudden addition to his life. 

On Monday, Dan was startled awake at an ungodly hour by his flat’s buzzer. He groaned and rolled out of bed, a grumbly " _Y_ _es, who is it?”_ was met with a much more cheerful “ _Package for Daniel Howell!”_ He buzzed the delivery person in, borderline begging them to come up to his floor for him to sign so he didn’t have to go down himself. 

Five minutes later, and a very genuine thank you from Dan, he was back in bed with a large box and a knife from the kitchen. Now that he was more awake, he knew exactly what it was and couldn’t even be upset by the early wake up call. He sliced through the packing tape and opened the box, a small white card sat upon a sea of black fabric. He flipped the card over in his fingers, reading the print on it that was basically just a reiteration of the emails he has been exchanging, a _“We here at Calvin Klein are so happy to be working with you!”_ tacked on at the end. 

He did a happy dance to himself and dug through the box, pulling out multiple pairs of black boxer briefs, black lounge shorts, black joggers, and black jumpers. He didn’t really _need_ any of these things, having many of the older versions in his own closet and dresser already, but he would rarely say no when a brand would offer him free reign to order whatever he wanted from their site for a brand deal. He had the package sent to his personal address, instead of his PO box like he usually would, as it had been a last minute squeeze into his calendar and they wanted him to post later on that week. 

Dan was overjoyed when he got the initial email, Calvin Klein reaching out to him to do a sponsored Instagram post for their new influencer campaign. This wouldn’t be the biggest brand he’s ever done an advertisement for, but it was a step out of his comfort zone, and it had a message attached to it that he really agreed with, so he was buzzing with excitement. Some nerves were also mixed in there as well, even though the brand representative he spoke with assured him he wouldn’t have to post a risqué picture if he didn’t feel comfortable with it. That was kind of the whole point of the campaign: wearing whatever makes _you_ feel confident. Whether that be tight black boxer briefs and nothing else, or matching baggy black jumper and joggers. 

As Dan looked through the items he ordered he still wasn’t sure what direction he would go in. He could go the safe route, but he also was starting to be less afraid about showing more skin - he thought of all the likes and comments on an experimental photo he posted over the summer, him in nothing but a black hoodie dress and socks. He folded the items back up and placed them in the box, deciding he would have a photoshoot after he had his coffee and breakfast. He also decided he would take shots in everything he received, so he could make the bigger decision on what to actually show to the world after the brand had approved his photos. There were fewer nerves in his stomach after settling on doing things that way, and he knew he could get _much_ better photos if he wasn’t full of nerves while taking them. Slaying the shot in the moment, obsessing over every detail later. That’s the energy he tried to live by. 

After a bit of a lie in and a _“Good Morning :)”_ text from Phil, Dan made himself breakfast and got ready for the day. He chose to take pictures for the brand deal that day. He had nothing else to do until dinner with Phil later, and he knew if he waited to do it tomorrow (or god forbid, the day the proofs were due) he wouldn’t stop thinking about it until he did. Once Dan was fresh and clean, curly hair meticulously tousled, and bed made up picture perfect, he blasted his “ _Feeling Myself”_ playlist and got to work. 

If Lizzo’s “Good As Hell” was featured on the playlist six different times, _well that is just none of your business._

That night, Dan met Phil at Phil’s favorite Indian restaurant. It was a small (teetering on the edge of fancy) place and the second they were sat down with their menus, Phil had excitedly pointed out to Dan that they had a lot of vegan options for him. The fondness in the air between them was palpable. They split an expensive bottle of wine, and at the end of the night they bickered over who would pay. They both were equally as stubborn, both wanting to pay, neither wanting to split it. Dan won out in the end, shoving his card into the check presenter with promises that Phil could pay next time. 

The next few days went by quickly. Dan was kept relatively busy with his day to day email admin, as well as editing and sending image proofs to Calvin Klein. On Tuesday, he left his flat to get a haircut, reluctantly keeping to his cold weather sensibility and just asking for a trim. On Wednesday, he made the trip across town to drop off his donation box. As Dan was hard to rise before the early afternoon, and Phil had been working noon until closing shifts, they wouldn’t text back and forth throughout the day. But they got into the habit of Phil calling Dan once he got home from work. They would cook their respective dinners on speaker and talk to each other about their days. It should have felt quite silly, considering they were in the same city and could easily have dinner together in real life, but it didn’t. It felt like them. 

On Friday, Dan woke to an email with Calvin Klein’s approval to post and what time they wanted him to post that day. The nerves came back in full force as he scrolled through the array of photos he could choose from, he still hadn’t decided what route he wanted to take. He contemplated as he made breakfast. He paced the length of his flat with his coffee in hand. He only stopped his pacing when his mug was empty, and he decided he should change out of the clothes he wore to bed and into clean loungewear. Once he was a bit fresher, he continued his pacing. 

He didn’t know why he kept going back and forth between what picture to post, it wasn’t like he was an overly modest person - even in his online persona. He would often make risqué jokes or comment more than PG-13 things on his influencer friends photos, so it wouldn’t necessarily shock anyone for him to post a picture in his underwear. He paced until he ended up lying on his back on his carpet, holding his phone above his face to flick through the images. 

He looked at the picture of himself in nothing but the black pair of boxer briefs. Once again, Dan wasn’t narcissistic, but he knew it was a _hot_ photo - _okay, maybe he was a bit narcissistic._ His hair was styled to look like he just rolled out of bed. But it looked nothing like Dan’s actual bedhead, more like what it would look like if he was the protagonist in a rom-com who just woke up. He was sitting on his knees in bed, giving the camera a _look_ with his head cocked, long neck exposed to the world. The more Dan looked at it, the more it felt a bit filthy. He would save it. Absolutely. But he wouldn’t post it, he decided. 

He was then left with the decision between his two other favorite photos from the shoot. In one, he was in almost an identical pose to the picture that he just decided not to post, the only difference being that he had pulled on one of the black jumpers as well. In the other, he was wearing both the jumper and matching joggers, sat in bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was turned to the side, instead of directly facing the camera, showcasing the white lettering that ran down the arm of the jumper and leg of the joggers. He had his hands resting over his knees, his head resting on them, turned to the side to give the camera another _look._

After a while, he finally decided to just post both of them. He concocted a plan to make it a swipe post, with the first picture being him sitting on his knees, the second being the one with his knees folded up. The brand hadn’t asked for that, but they would definitely be happy about it. Dan didn’t even care that he typically would be paid more for multi-photo posts, this was just what he _wanted_ to post. He drafted a few potential captions that fit with the pictures and what the brand wanted for the campaign, and saved the post as a draft when he settled on one. He still had some time before it needed to be posted. 

Now there was nothing for Dan to do but stew in his nerves. 

A few hours later, after Dan had made himself a salad for lunch, teased something coming later on his story, and finally did his laundry, he was no less nervous. Before he started up the pacing again, he had an idea, and texted Phil. 

**Dan:** _hey when do you get off today?_

Surprisingly, the little dots popped up and Phil responded immediately. 

**Phil:** _;)_

Dan groaned. 

**Dan:** _i am talking about work you absolute badger_

 **Phil:** _:)_

 **Phil:** _In half an hour_

 **Dan:** _fancy coming by mine? in need of emotional support or someone to physically press post on this spon i have to post or i fear i will not_

Dan tapped his foot against the floor as he waited for Phil to respond. 

**Phil:** _Sure! I’m your guy!_

Dan smiled, and then voiced as such.

 **Dan:** _:)_

As Dan waited for Phil, he didn’t bother to change out of his loungewear, but he did fuss with his hair in the bathroom mirror for far too long, apply an extra layer of deodorant, and brush his teeth. With a mintier mouth and fluffier curls, he put a show on tv and lounged in bed. The thought crossed his mind that it would be nice of him to cook up a little dinner for them, have it waiting for Phil when he got there, but he got way too comfortable in bed and decided if Phil wanted they could make something together after his post was done. _He isn’t even your boyfriend yet, and you’re already being a lazy boyfriend,_ Dan’s mind provided. He brushed the thought away. 

When almost an hour had passed, Dan frowned at his phone and shot Phil a quick “ _you still coming?”_ Not even two minutes later, his buzzer rang through the flat, jump-scaring Dan. 

“Jesus,” he muttered to himself as he got up, holding a hand to his chest, and walked over to the door. He pressed his finger on the intercom instead of the door buzzer, “You just scared the absolute shit out of me!” he called into the box. 

He heard Phil laugh on the other end, then a crinkling of plastic, “You knew I was coming!” Another crinkle of bags and what sounded like a bell, “Let me in, Danny boy.” 

“Just for that name...I will not!” Dan huffed, but he pressed the door buzzer anyways. 

Dan didn’t know what to look at first when he opened the door to Phil. He was huffing and puffing, face a bit red. He had a pair of thick, black framed glasses on. Dan didn’t know he wore glasses. He also had two large takeout bags cradled in his arms. But the thing about Phil that Dan couldn’t keep his eyes from, was the fact that he was wearing the same elf costume that Dan first met him in. 

“You could have warned me your lift was broken,” he greeted Dan, still trying to catch his breath. Dan just kind of gaped at him. Phil gave him a weird look, then walked past him into his flat, placing the bags on the counter. He jingled as he went.

Dan shook his head, as if to clear his shock, and closed the door. “Yeah, sorry, it does that a lot.” 

Phil’s eyebrows shot up, “How do you survive? I mean, my building doesn’t have a lift, but it’s only two floors...not FIVE!” 

“I know, mate, it sucks...are we going to talk about the elephant in the room?” Dan waved his hands towards Phil. 

“You mean the elf in the room?” Phil said with a huge grin and a waggle of his eyebrows. He placed his hands on his hips - bells ringing in the process - and proudly displayed his body, shaking his hips.

Dan groaned, “I cannot even hug you, looking like that. I can’t believe you are even standing in my flat looking like that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he looked away from Phil.

Phil pouted, “Aw, you were going to hug me?” A mischievous grin sat on his lips. 

Dan rolled his eyes, “I’m getting you something to change into,” he motioned for Phil to follow him towards his bed, and he pulled out the other new set of black Calvin Klein joggers and jumper from his dresser. He desperately tried to ignore the jingles that rang off of Phil as he followed behind him. It sounded like he was bouncing his steps on purpose to make them ring louder, _the fucker._

“You’re ridiculous,” Phil said as he took the soft clothes from Dan’s hands. 

“ _You_ are ridiculous,” Dan quipped back. He pointed towards the bathroom, “Off you get.” 

Phil pouted, but followed Dan’s instructions, only turning back to look at Dan once he opened the bathroom door. “So you don’t want to watch me strip?” he said in a low, deep voice. 

Dan whined in his throat, but held a stern gaze, “That will absolutely not work when you are in _that_.” Phil huffed in response, making a point to shake his body so his jingle bells sang before closing the door. 

“You’re _so_ lucky you’re pretty!” Dan called after him, no real malice in his voice. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you hated Christmas!” Phil called from inside the bathroom, Dan only responding with a loud “ _Yep”_ , popping his lips for emphasis. 

Phil reappeared a few minutes later, head to toe in black, with the offending costume in his hands. Dan pointed to the dining table and Phil placed it on top, patting the pile of clothes affectionately, making the bells jingle one last time. Dan shook his head, but all of his disgust surrounding Christmas fizzled away as he checked Phil out. He looked downright sexy in all black. 

“Okay, I am okay with watching you strip now,” Dan crossed his arms, making a show out of raking his eyes up and down Phil’s body. 

“Shut up,” Phil giggled and held his arms out, “Am I huggable now?” he pouted. 

Dan quickly took the bait and crossed the room, wrapping his arms around Phil. “That’s one way to say it,” he hummed into the side of Phil’s head. 

Phil rubbed a hand up and down Dan’s back before letting go. “You’re a bit cheeky today.” They had parted, but were still up close in each other’s space. Dan could still smell Phil from there. He smelled like amber, but also a little zesty and fresh, with a hint of balsam. It was fruity but manly, and it made him feel warm. He knew his face was probably red all over. 

“You make me a bit cheeky,” Dan scrunched his nose and Phil copied the expression, causing them to both burst into a fit of laughter. 

Once they had caught their breath, Phil turned and gestured towards the bags on the breakfast bar, “I stopped for Chinese on my way over, I didn’t know what you like so I just got everything vegan on their menu.” 

“Phil!” Dan laughed, “You know cell phones exist? You could’ve asked me what I wanted.” 

“Yeah, but then it wouldn’t have been a _surprise_!” 

Dan shook his head, his face betraying him as a massive grin broke through, “You are not real.” 

Phil giggled and held his hand up to his arm, pinching himself through the fabric, “Ow! See? I am real!” The action only convinced Dan even further that Phil wasn’t real.

“You really didn’t have to do all that,” Dan looked from Phil to the bags, and then to Phil again. “I will pretty much eat anything.” He paused for a beat, and then added, “Thank you though, you didn’t have to...you really don’t have to be so accommodating of my badly followed diet either, you’re too good to me.” 

“I know I don’t have to, I want to,” Phil said matter-of-factly, “and now we get to have a fun buffet!” Phil smiled, clapping his hands together. 

Dan returned the smile. “First you must save me from my own head,” he said as he walked over to his bed where he had left his phone, “I need to post this before eight, but it’s so different from my usual stuff…” He sat down on the bed and unlocked his phone. Phil came right over and sat next to him. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” He handed his phone over to Phil, the drafted Instagram post on the screen. 

Phil whistled after taking the phone and looking at the post, “Calvin Klein spon?” He turned his head to look at Dan, eyebrows raised. “You’re a proper big shot, huh?” he teased. 

Dan blushed, “It’s not that big of a deal…” he brushed it off. “They’re sponsoring, like, _everyone_ right now.”

“Yes it is!” Phil looked back at the phone in his hand, clicking on the pictures so they would expand. 

“Okay, maybe it’s a bit of a big deal,” Dan conceded, he flopped back on his back and held an arm over his eyes. “It’s a mildly big deal...and my pictures are not usually that risqué...so I’m a bit scared to press post.” He groaned, the butterflies in his stomach flapping their wings at full speed. 

Phil hummed. A minute passed before he said anything, but then Dan felt a squeeze at his knee and he pulled his arm off his eyes to look up. “Good thing you don’t have to press post then,” Phil gave him an unreadable look and Dan furrowed his brows. 

“I do, Phil,” Dan propped himself up on his elbows, “there’s contracts and everything...and really, I’m just catastrophizing...I want to post them, I just need to get over myself for a minute.” 

Phil smiled and then started to giggle, holding a hand over his mouth. Dan narrowed his eyes at him, _I invite him over to ease my nerves and he’s really laughing at me?_

But Phil was soon speaking up again, giggles subsiding, “No, I meant you literally don’t have to press post.” He leaned over and held Dan’s phone up to his face. 

Sure enough, Dan was looking at the Instagram home page, his post the first on his feed. He grabbed the phone from Phil’s hand and inspected the post, making sure he hadn’t forgotten anything and that Phil hadn’t messed with it. Dan let out a breath he didn’t notice he was holding in when everything looked perfect. His pictures staring back at him, tagged correctly, with the caption: **_confidence is a journey i’m still on but it feels good to feel #CONFIDENTINMYCALVINS #AD_ **

“I can’t believe you did that,” Dan sat up so he could push at Phil’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. 

“No more nerves?” Phil put his hand over Dan’s. 

Dan let go of Phil’s shoulder and turned his hand to entwine their fingers, “No,” he squeezed Phil’s hand once. “Thanks.” He had a fond look on his face, and it looked like Phil was returning it. 

“Anytime.” 

“You look really hot in those pictures, by the way,” Phil said after taking a sip of his coke, “I don’t think I said that earlier but...wow.” He bumped his shoulder into Dan’s. They were sat in the tall clear chairs at Dan’s breakfast bar, the large spread of Chinese takeaway covering the counter. Huge, half empty containers of vegetable fried rice and lo mein, picked over sweet and sour and sesame tofu, and the wrappers from far too many spring rolls sat before them. They were mostly stuffed now. Phil just leaning back in the chair, sipping on his drink, and Dan staring into the half eaten spring roll in his hand, willing his stomach to provide more room to finish it. 

Dan looked up from the spring roll and at Phil. “You should see the one I thought was too hot to post,” he said casually, and then finally popped the rest of the spring roll in his mouth. Internally, he was the opposite of casual, he wasn’t sure why he was being so bold. Phil seemed to bring that out of him. 

Phil raised his eyebrows, “Hotter than that first picture?” he spoke in a lower voice, leaning into Dan’s space. 

Dan hummed. He was glad his hands weren’t shaking when he slid his phone off the counter, opened his camera roll to the collection of pictures he took during that shoot, and handed it to Phil. 

Phil took the phone and stared at the first picture that was expanded on the screen with wide eyes. It was just an outtake of one of the pictures he posted. “You can swipe,” Dan instructed, leaning into Phil’s space now, and flicking his finger across the screen. The image on the screen changed to a different pose. Phil got the memo and began to swipe on his own, although he paused on each picture for a painfully long amount of time. Dan tried to hide his intense blush in the crook of Phil’s neck, resting his head there while Phil looked. 

Phil made a startled, strangled noise in his throat when he landed on the picture Dan was referencing. The one of him in just his pants, really laying the bedroom eyes onto the camera. Dan almost felt embarrassed looking back at it, but he could feel how Phil’s breath hitched, an almost inaudible whining noise coming from him. He was sure he could only hear it because of their close proximity. 

“Yeah…” Phil’s voice was down an octave. It was so low and husky, and it surprised Dan to hear his accent go more Northern than it already was. “ _Way_ too hot for Instagram.” 

Dan lifted his head to look at Phil’s face, it was flushed and he was still staring at Dan’s phone screen. Looking at Phil’s reaction to him made him feel some type of way, his own heart beating impossibly faster. Dan smirked and turned his head back to the phone. He lifted his hand and tapped the screen, pressing the share button and tapping the grey message bubble that had a big ‘P’ on it. 

A few seconds later, Phil’s phone chimed from where it sat on the counter. The two of them burst out into laughter, leaning against each other. 


	12. Chapter 12

“You can stay over if you want,” Dan hummed into Phil’s neck. They were half sitting, half lying in Dan’s bed, legs tangled together, Dan cuddled up into Phil’s side. On the tv was an anime that they weren’t really paying attention to, but they had both already seen it so it didn’t matter. It was mostly just background noise as they lounged in a comfortable silence between the two of them. 

Phil had excitedly asked for a lighter when Dan suggested they watch something after dinner and brought them over to his bed. Now, three different candles on Dan’s windowsill were lit. Phil had complained that he didn’t have anything sweet, all of his candles being dark, woodsy scents. But he sniffed all of them anyways, choosing his favorites and lighting them all - much to Dan’s horror. They had been burning for quite some time now, and Dan refuses to admit that the concoction didn’t smell horrible. A hint of tobacco, patchouli, and men’s cologne floated around the room. And Phil was wrong anyways, as Dan breathed in against Phil’s neck, he did have something sweet in here. 

When Phil hadn’t immediately responded to his suggestion, Dan fiddled with the hem of Phil’s collar. He rubbed the soft fabric between his forefinger and thumb. He felt Phil breath in deeper, the breath he exhaled tickled at Dan’s head. Phil squeezed at Dan’s shoulder and pulled him in tighter. 

“I should probably go,” Phil’s voice, and the way he tried to hold Dan closer completely contrasted what he was saying. “I have an early start tomorrow,” he explained, “and besides….” he trailed off. 

“Hmm?” Dan looked up at Phil’s face when he didn’t finish his thought. 

He was looking back down at Dan. His lip was pulled between his teeth, brows furrowed. Dan let go of his hold on Phil’s collar and smoothed his thumb between Phil’s eyebrows, the tension there melting away with the movement. 

“I really like you, Dan.” He pressed his free hand against Dan’s, that was now cupping his jaw. “Like a lot, way too much.”

“I like you a lot too,” Dan whispered back, the sentiment feeling like an understatement as it bounced back through his brain. He filed that thought away to compartmentalize later. 

A slight frown took residence on Phil’s face, and Dan rubbed his thumb against his cheek. He could feel the beginnings of stubble under his thumb. He also filed _that_ information away for later.

“I don’t want to mess this up by going too fast, with all these feelings I haven’t let myself feel in a long time...it scares me a little,” Phil said in a small voice. 

“Sometimes I think we’re the same person,” Dan huffed a laugh, but he was all truth. Phil was dropped into his life, unexpected, but not unwanted. The feelings scared Dan, but for some reason he couldn’t let himself pull away. He couldn’t see himself going back to his previously solitary personal life. He didn’t want to. And he couldn’t see himself having Phil as a fling, a few nights of passion. He didn’t want that. That wasn’t typical for Dan. He could see something similar in Phil’s face. That was another thing he couldn’t wrap his head around, that sometimes it felt like they could read each other without words. 

There was something strange happening here, and if Dan were the type of person that believed souls were real, _well_ , he would have a few things to say. 

“You know, you could stay over without us sleeping together...just, you know, sleeping together,” Dan pointed out, in a lighter tone, trying to break up the heavy feeling in the room. 

Phil just laughed and gave Dan a pointed, knowing look. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t have the willpower either.” Dan laughed, they shared the same cheeky grin. Dan felt compelled to kiss the look off Phil’s face, so he did. 

Phil gasped and pulled back the smallest amount with the shock of Dan’s lips on his. There was no time for Dan to panic, though, as he pushed back into Dan’s space as quickly as he had pulled away. From the outside, it didn’t look perfect, more like two huge smiles being pushed together than an actual kiss. But to Dan, it felt perfect. 

They giggled into each other’s mouths and Dan pulled back when his teeth clacked against Phil’s. They giggled harder now, just looking at each other like they were the funniest thing in the world, and Dan pushed himself up to swing a leg over Phil’s. Phil hummed in response, and pulled Dan into a proper kiss once he was sat in his lap. 

Dan couldn’t tell what felt more electric, his cheeks being cupped by Phil’s shaky hands, or the way Phil ran his tongue against his lips. He let out a whine and pulled Phil’s bottom lip between his teeth - thinking about the first time he saw him, and how he hasn’t stopped thinking about doing exactly that since. Phil held him in more secure hands and kissed him harder in response, and if Dan wasn’t so completely focused in the moment - and on Phil - he probably wouldn’t have caught the barely audible whines from Phil as well. They kissed like that for a while, all hands, lips, and teeth. Dan shamelessly whining and moaning into Phil’s mouth, he was too far gone to care. 

Eventually, Phil pulled away and rested his forehead against Dan’s, squeezing his hands around Dan’s waist where they now sat. “This,” he pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s now pouting mouth, “is why,” a kiss to his left cheek, “I can’t stay the night,” a kiss to his right cheek. 

“But consider this,” Dan kissed the tip of Phil’s nose, “what if you did?” He wiggled his hips and Phil groaned. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Howell,” he laughed, running his hands up Dan’s sides before patting at his thigh. Dan pulled himself off of Phil’s lap and sat up next to him, criss-crossing his long legs. 

“I’m just saying,” he drew patterns into Phil’s thigh with his finger, “there’s no rulebook that says we have to go at any sort of specific pace other than the one we want. And I’m like, here for this,” he gestured between the two of them, “whatever this is.” 

Phil smiled and shuffled around until he was sat across from Dan, mimicking his pose, their folded knees bumping together. Dan rested an elbow on his knee and held his hand out to Phil. His fingers folded into a fist, save his pinky finger that was outstretched towards Phil. 

“I’ll stick with you if you stick with me,” Dan said to his hand, worried that if he looked up at Phil his sudden boldness would fizzle. “It feels like we both are rusty at this, so lets promise to not let that get in the way.” He wiggled his pinky finger to emphasize his point. Phil reached out and wrapped his own finger around Dan’s, and only then did Dan look up to meet his eyes. They were just as bright and blue, even in the soft lighting of Dan’s flat. Phil forewent kissing his hand as they locked fingers, choosing instead to lean forward and press a quick kiss to Dan’s lips to seal the promise. 

“So what is this anyways?” Phil asked after they dropped their hands. 

Dan thought for a moment, smiling at Phil. “Something good.” He tapped his fingers against Phil’s knee, “Something new.” 

Phil hummed. “I _am_ in the business of trying new things.” 

“Are you now?” Dan teased and patted both of Phil’s knees before getting up from the bed. He held his hands out to Phil to pull him up as well. 

“Mhm,” Phil nodded his head and let Dan pull him up. 

They mostly moved in silence as Phil gathered his things. Much to Dan’s dismay, the silence was ruined the second Phil picked up his discarded costume, the bells having something to say. Dan insisted Phil keep his clothes, shaking his head and muttering about how he even came across London to get here in the dumb costume earlier. 

“You know, Dan, not everyone is as much of a grinch as you are. People actually _compliment_ me when I’m wearing this,” he shook the clothes in his hand, jingling the bells. Dan grimaced. 

“They can subscribe to your awful agenda, I will not,” Dan said, matter-of-factly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Phil gave him a look, Dan wasn’t quite sure of it’s meaning, but then he was stepping forward and booping Dan’s nose with a finger. “Will you tell me your beef with Christmas?” 

His face was wide open now, completely readable, and for the first time since he first went to therapy all those years ago, Dan actually felt like he could tell someone else his story. That scared him. But they did make that promise…

“It’s a long story,” he started. “I, uh, I just…” 

“Not today?” Phil interrupted, and Dan really wanted to understand how they could read each other so well when they technically barely knew each other. 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Can I ask you one thing though?” Phil pursed his lips together in thought, Dan kind of wanted to kiss them. He hummed a soft “ _yeah”_ instead. 

“Could you ever love it?” Dan made a face at Phil’s question and Phil held up a hand, “Sorry, I mean, like...you said you used to celebrate it and now you don’t…”

“Mhm,” Dan wasn’t sure where Phil was going with this. 

“Was there a time when you liked it?” 

Dan bit his lip, trying not to let the memories run through his head, “Mhm.”

“Would you ever consider trying to replace whatever made that stop with new, good memories?” 

“This is a lot more than one question, Phil…” Dan frowned, but cut off the “ _s_ _orry”_ that was about to leave Phil’s mouth with a wave of a hand and a sigh. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I don’t know if I can,” he clarified. 

Phil sighed, he looked sad. Dan decided he really didn’t like it when Phil looked sad. 

“I like you, grinch and all,” Phil’s frown tugged up a bit. “But if you ever decided you wanted to try, I’ll be here.” 

Dan could feel the tear run down his cheek before he had even realized his eyes were starting to get misty. Phil reached forward and wiped at it with his sleeve. 

“And if you decide you don’t want to, I’ll still be here,” Phil added when Dan didn’t respond. 

Dan bit his lip, looking down at their feet. He wasn’t going to do this was he? One part of his brain was sending off sirens, the other was leaning into Phil’s open expression. Dan could say that he didn’t know why he said what he did next, but it would be a lie. He knew why as he looked up at Phil, a blanket of safety placed over his shoulders. 

“Take your shoes off and I’ll make us tea.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dan: breathes in  
> Dan: *Jake Peralta voice* "I'm about to monologue, son"


	13. Chapter 13

Dan watched as the water in the kettle simmered. The machine beeped once it began to properly boil, and Dan picked it up by the handle, pouring the steaming water over two tea bags in two black mugs. He stared into the now browning liquid and tried to settle the feeling in his stomach. 

“I don’t have any sugar,” he called over to Phil, who had taken his shoes and coat back off after assuring Dan he could stay for a long story. He also told Dan that he didn’t need to tell him now, not if he wasn’t ready, but Dan had brushed him off. _Was it even really a big deal anyways?_ It didn’t make sense to not tell Phil. Phil, who Dan hoped would be around for a while. He was sitting at the white dining table now, the one that Dan never sat at for real, just for Instagram. 

“That’s okay,” Phil replied, he had an elbow on the table, his head in his hand. The other hand was gently stroking the petals of the yellow orchid that Dan hadn’t managed to kill yet. He was paying extra attention to it, even went as far as reading a few articles and watching a few YouTube videos to learn how to properly care for it. “I usually take it with.” He added, and even though Dan was still looking at the steeping tea, he could hear the smile in Phil’s voice. “So you know how I like my tea for future reference. Lots of sugar, a splash of milk.” 

Dan smiled, “I can do a splash of milk at least,” he opened the fridge door. “Any qualms against almond?” He turned with the carton in his hand, shaking it at Phil. 

Phil nodded, “I’m actually lactose intolerant.” Dan laughed as he pulled the tea bags out and added milk to one of the mugs. 

“So that’s why you hate cheese, that makes so much more sense.” 

“No, cheese is just gross,” Phil made a face at Dan as he exited the kitchen and walked towards the table. “I don’t respect my lactose intolerance, I love ice cream too much. And whole milk in my coffee.” Phil took his mug from Dan, and Dan sat down in the chair adjacent to him. 

“You’re an enigma,” Dan shook his head. They both laughed. Even though the air in the room felt heavier, the way he felt light and easy around Phil still stuck around. 

“Could say the same about you,” Phil said after taking a sip of his tea. Dan stared at the way both of his hands wrapped around the black mug. It was an interesting image, Phil in _his_ black clothes holding _his_ black mug. Dan wanted to take a picture, but his phone was on the other side of the room, and he didn’t want to disrupt the aura of safety and bravery he was feeling. 

Dan took a breath and moved his eyes from Phil’s hands to his face, “I take my coffee black and my tea the same - unless it’s herbal, then I like a bit of honey,” he lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip. “I haven’t talked to my family in five years, I came out to them at Christmas and was told to leave.” It was out with a rush of breath, that was it, the band-aid ripped off. Funnily enough, Dan noticed, he felt lighter after he said it. Saying it aloud somehow didn’t pull at his chest any more than when he would stew in it internally. In fact, Dan felt it hurt a little less. _Huh._

Once the words were out there in the open, Phil had a sharp intake of breath. 

“Fuck,” was all he said. 

“Yeah,” was all Dan said. 

They sat there in silence for a while, just sipping their tea and looking at each other. Dan could tell that Phil was giving him the space to talk, not wanting to say any more. He appreciated it as he tried to organize the words that were tied up in a knot in his brain. 

Dan turned his gaze to the pot on the table. He spoke to the flower. 

“You were right, there was a time when I liked Christmas. I, uh, could probably go as far to say I loved the holidays. I didn’t have a picture perfect family or childhood, nor was it _bad..._ it just wasn’t great,” Dan sighed. “But there was something about Christmas that brought the best out of everyone, there was barely any fighting or disappointed looks, everyone got along _because_ it was the holidays. My parents would actually show the same amount of affection to me and my brother, which like,” Dan let out a sardonic laugh, “looking back on that, it was kind of fucked up. But it was a happy time.”

Dan didn’t look up at Phil as he talked. He could feel his eyes on him, though. And he could see him fiddling with his mug on the table out of the corner of his eye. 

“Obviously I, like, told you the gist about university...” Phil hummed in acknowledgement. “Well once I got that sense of freedom, even though school itself sucked, I didn’t want to let it go. _God,_ even when I was at my lowest I still could recognize how much better I felt on my own. Luckily, I was able to make a job out of my love of fashion and, after a short stint back at home post drop out, it allowed me to move out and support myself.” Dan looked down at his mug and tapped his fingers against it. He noticed that Phil had one of his hands palm up on the table, an extension if he needed it. He looked up at Phil, who’s blue eyes looked a bit pale, then back down at the table. He took his hand off his mug and put it over Phil’s palm, Phil gently wrapped his fingers around his hand. 

Dan smiled and blinked a few times, thinking that maybe he could get through this without the tears. He was surprised when the disgust in his stomach felt stronger than the sadness as he relived the hard part. He looked back down at his tea.

“It’s like, abundantly clear that I never did have the best relationship with my family. They weren’t subtle about not approving of my career, even though they were aware of how much I was making...which like…” Dan felt his cheeks heat up a bit with embarrassment, he didn’t really like to talk about that. But _hell_ , he was telling a story he _really_ did not like to talk about, so it didn’t matter, “I’m comfortable, I live very comfortably.” Phil squeezed his hand once, Dan understood. 

“After a few years on my own, I was twenty-three, my job was more stable, I was finally accepting myself, and I had like, created my own life and my own home here. At that point in my life it felt like it was a naturally okay time to be like, ‘ _Hey, by the way, I’m gay’_ to my family because like, it didn’t affect them. I was all the way in London now, and I was finally accepting that part of myself...but having to hide it because I knew my family could see my Instagram and stuff. I couldn’t stand hiding any longer, so I decided to tell them. I honestly thought it wouldn't be _that_ big of a deal.” 

Dan was once again surprised when he didn’t feel the wetness behind his eyes. Maybe the wound under the band-aid had scabbed over more than he thought. 

“That fucking backfired,” Dan huffed and shook his head, “On Christmas eve, I found myself on a train leaving what I once called home - but it never really was, now that I think about it. I was on a train back to London on Christmas eve. I spent Christmas day here,” Dan lifted his hand that wasn’t in Phil’s to gesture to the room, “alone, in this flat. I had even cleared out the fridge, assuming I would be away with family until after New Years. So Christmas dinner was a carton of noodles from the takeaway place eight blocks down. The one around the corner was closed, and I didn’t have the heart to make the one further away come out and deliver, so I cried the whole walk there...and back...and into my noodles," Dan let out a sardonic huff of a laugh. 

“I’m still bitter about it, clearly. And I still have resentment. I guess telling this story to you, now, all these years later, I’m realizing it hurts a lot less...which is weird.” Dan’s mouth tugged into a somewhat sad smile. “At the time, it was easier to take out those feelings on the holidays instead of my family...even though they _were_ caused by my family. Not fucking Christmas,” Dan laughed.

“I haven’t spoken to them in five years, they never reached out...I never reached out...I thought it would be easier on my heart to hate Christmas, and myself sometimes, instead of them.” 

Dan let out a heavy sigh and looked back up to Phil. His eyes finally started to water when he saw that Phil’s were wet. 

“Oh, Phil.” 

Phil immediately let go of Dan’s hands to wipe at his eyes with both of his. “Sorry, sorry,” he said in a low, misty voice. 

“Fuck,” Dan felt the tears freely fall down his face. “Why are you crying...” Dan said, now sniffling, “I’m supposed to be the one that’s crying.” 

“Sorry I’m just,” Phil wiped at his eye again and looked up at the ceiling, blinking, “so angry and sad. Family should be a safe space.” 

“It isn’t for a lot of people,” Dan said sadly. 

Phil sighed, another tear rolling down his cheek, “I know.” He frowned, “It doesn’t make it any less upsetting to me though.” Dan’s heart felt both torn apart and stitched back together as he looked at Phil. Phil, who got so upset at the idea of Dan’s homophobic family not accepting him that he was crying, when Dan didn’t even cry reliving the story himself. It was hard to believe this man was real. 

Dan reached out for Phil’s hand again, but Phil just shook his head and stood from his chair, “I’m gonna hug you now. And I might like, never let go.” 

Dan laughed, “That’s quite alright.” He stood up as well, stepping right into Phil’s outstretched arms. He let Phil hold him just a little too tight, melting into his touch. 

Dan turned his head and rested it on Phil’s shoulder, “You know, it’s not all that bad,” he said to the wall. Phil made a questioning noise in his throat, Dan could feel it vibrate against his chest. “I still talk to my brother,” he sighed, “If talking constitutes as liking his posts on Instagram, and the occasional back and forth when I’m feeling brave and reach out to ask him for some tips on veganism. That’s why I do it, the whole _vegan six days a week_ thing, because of him. I try to, at least,” Dan shrugged his shoulders in Phil’s grasp. “I usually can’t quite make it the full week though, maybe there’s some deeper meaning there that I don’t care to analyze.” He let out a wet laugh and Phil rubbed at his back. Dan hummed at the touch. 

“He’s not a dick about it but obviously he’s younger, I couldn’t expect him to go against the rest of my family regardless of how he felt. He’s got a real golden child thing about him that I try not to hold against him. He was just a kid after all, still under their roof when it happened. Even though I know he’s older and, like, a completely different, mature person now, I still can’t help but see him as that kid. I can’t hold him at fault for things he didn’t do though, I can repress my anger and sadness for the rest of my family through hating this time of year, but I know there’s no reason for him to be roped into all that. He’s a good kid,” Dan smiled at the wall. “He never tries to update me on our family, even though I know he goes back to see them, which I appreciate. I think it makes it easier for whatever strange relationship we do still have,” Dan laughed. “He’s good for the infrequent family dog update when he isn’t running an ultra-marathon or in the fucking Swiss Alps or whatever. I’m thankful for that being the extent of my connection with my family. I’ve decided it’s better to be as detached as I can be, to the point of avoiding the holidays, at least that’s what I tell myself...that it’s better.” 

When Phil realized that Dan was done with his monologue to the wall, he spoke up. “Is it really better?” he rubbed his hand between Dan’s shoulder blades. Dan didn’t even have the heart to get irritated at the comment, it didn’t sound condescending coming from Phil, like it did when it came from therapists and every other person that knew of his distaste for Christmas but not the extent of _why._

“Why did I know you were going to say something like that?” Dan pulled back and looked at Phil’s face. His eyes were red, Dan knew his own were probably the same, but he smiled at Dan. 

“I’m a bit predictable and a bit of an asshole,” Phil shrugged. 

Dan grinned and shook his head. He found himself doing that a lot around Phil. 

“I think you’re the opposite of both of those things,” he tilted his head down to plant a kiss on Phil’s mouth. Because he could do that now, that was a thing. It was apparently also a thing to bare your entire soul to someone, not even an hour after kissing them for the first time, _god,_ when did Dan get so _gay?_

He voiced as much when he pulled apart from Phil, “So much for saving the trauma for after the fourth date,” he barked out a laugh. Phil pouted but laughed with him. He held up a hand to Dan’s face, cupping his jaw and sticking his thumb right into Dan’s indented cheek. Dan tilted his face into the touch and hummed. 

“And somehow we didn’t hold to the post-second date bath escapades rule either,” Phil replied, expression far too soft and voice far to genuine for his level of teasing. 

“Phil!” Dan swatted at his shoulder and Phil dropped his hand so he could clutch at his own sides as he laughed. The air in Dan’s flat felt impossibly lighter. Dan’s heart felt lighter, too. 

“I guess sticking to rules isn’t the Dan and Phil way, huh?” Dan asked Phil once they caught their breath. 

Phil pursed his lips and scrunched up his nose, “Guess not.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember I said just a _dash_ of sad!  
> Also hi in true friday the 13th fashion my mac completely died on me unexpectedly last night (while I was in the middle of writing one of the final chapters of this, aaaaaaaagghh) so I will _definitely_ be more sporadic about the times I post chapters everyday (until I can get my laptop fixed pls pray for her I cannot drop hundreds on a replacement rn) I will DEF still be posting everyday, even if it means having to resort to editing and posting from my phone or tablet (I don't even read on my phone/tablet I am a tried and true laptop user so thats why we'll be slow going and sporadic 'til she's fixed) so dw! Truly, a friday the 13th Christmas curse....lets all form a prayer circle for my laptop so I do not have to try to edit all these upcoming chapters and finish writing the ending on my phone/tablet pls and thank u  
> Also also while I'm here thanks for reading as always y'all don't even know how much seeing people actually reading and enjoying this warms my heart - I love u all sm!!!


	14. Chapter 14

Dan woke, not to the afternoon sun blazing into his eyes, nor to the buzzing of his doorbell, but to a loud clanging from somewhere in his flat. 

Last night, after laying it all out on the table to Phil, Phil had stayed over. Dan smiled at the memory. They had brushed their teeth together in Dan’s small bathroom, all bumping elbows and foamy giggles. Not to mention Dan’s fond, “ _You’re lucky you’re cute, because I was just about to crack into this new toothbrush, and I take dental hygiene very seriously”_ with a whack of the packaging against Phil’s arm. 

Hours later, they had fallen asleep together, Dan feeling warm and secure with Phil in his arms. With that memory pulling Dan back into reality, with a blush on his face, he rolled over in bed to cuddle up to Phil. But he rolled into an empty bed, arm patting at just his sheets. There was another crashing noise that echoed through the flat and Dan sat up straight, finally opening his eyes. 

“What?” he grumbled as he rubbed at his eyes, but there was little sunlight for them to adjust to. He looked over at the other side of the room, and just beyond the breakfast bar counter he could see Phil standing in his kitchen. 

“What time is it?” Dan croaked, louder this time, “And what the hell are you doing?” 

Phil squeaked and turned around, smiling at Dan with a bag of coffee beans in his hand. “Too early. And I am trying to figure out how you make coffee in this establishment,” he shook the bag of beans, “this was all I could find, what _is_ this? Do you have instant?” 

“Do I have _instant!”_ Dan echoed, he borderline shrieked, the sleepy rasp in his voice dissipating. “Hold on,” he grumbled, “I’ll come help you.” 

Phil smiled and then leaned over the breakfast bar, head in his hands. Dan gave him a weird look and then flipped off the covers. He was _completely_ exposed, _yeah_ , he had forgotten about that. That would explain the shit-eating grin on Phil’s face. 

“Perv,” Dan teased and leaned over the side of the bed to locate his pants and joggers. 

Phil giggled, “What?” and shamelessly watched Dan put his clothes on and get out of bed. 

Dan stretched and his joints popped. “It is too early for this,” he complained and walked over to the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry, I was trying not to wake you up. I have to be at work at eight,” Phil explained, then pulled Dan in for a kiss once he was standing in front of him. 

“Where exactly does throwing things around in my kitchen fit into not waking Dan up?” Dan poked a harsh finger into Phil’s chest once they parted. Phil just giggled and muttered another, now unconvincing, apology. Dan grabbed the coffee beans from Phil’s hand and instructed him to budge out of the way. Dan’s small kitchen space definitely wasn’t designed for two large men puttering about in it at the same time, so Phil lifted himself up onto the breakfast bar counter and watched Dan prepare his coffee. 

“I can’t believe you seriously asked me if I had instant…” Dan huffed as he clicked on the kettle and pulled out the coffee grinder and his french press. He shook the beans into his coffee grinder, the buzzing of it screaming over Phil’s response. 

“What did you say?” Dan said as he stopped the grinder and tapped the freshly ground coffee into the press. 

“I said that instant is the superior type of coffee.” Phil said, matter-of-factly. 

Dan’s eyes widened and he turned to look at Phil, “I’m gonna pretend like I didn’t hear that.” 

The water still hadn’t boiled, so Dan took the two steps over to Phil and pulled his legs apart to step between them. He let his hands slide up Phil’s thighs as he stepped flush against Phil and the counter. They felt soft and warm under Dan’s hands, as he was only wearing his pants and Dan’s jumper. 

Phil ducked his head down to kiss Dan, Dan hummed into his mouth. “What time is it again?” he asked in a breathless voice when they parted. Phil hummed and looked over Dan’s shoulder at his oven, displaying the time. He frowned. 

“Early, but too late for whatever you’re thinking with that look in your eyes.” Phil tapped a finger against Dan’s nose. 

Dan scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out at Phil, “I am nothing if not quick and efficient,” he squeezed one of Phil’s thighs. Phil groaned but shook his head. 

The kettle beeped, so Dan pulled himself away from Phil and continued to fix Phil’s coffee. While he waited for the coffee to be ready to press, he opened a cabinet for a mug. There was a soft thud behind him, and then warm arms around his bare torso, as he pulled out two black mugs. 

Phil scoffed in his ear, “You have such boring mugs.” 

“Bold of you, Phil Lester, to insult the mugs of the man who is making you coffee,” Dan tutted and shuffled over in Phil’s grip to push down the plunger of the french press. 

“They _are_ boring though,” Phil kissed Dan’s neck, causing a shiver to run down Dan’s spine, and then let go of Dan’s waist to pluck the now full cup off the counter. “Thank you,” he chirped and moved with his mug to the fridge. 

“Sure, yeah, make yourself at home,” Dan shook his head at Phil as he grabbed the almond milk from Dan’s fridge and poured it into his coffee, the sarcastic tone in his voice just a ruse. 

Phil smiled smugly at Dan once he swung the door shut, “Good, I already have.” They shared a look, and Dan could feel it in his chest. Phil broke their gaze, taking his coffee to the other side of the breakfast bar and Dan poured his own cup to join him. 

“You’re cute,” Phil had said once Dan was sitting next to him. “With your messy bed hair,” he added. 

“Ugh,” Dan put down his mug to fuss with his hair, “I’m not awake enough yet to care.” He accepted defeat and picked his mug back up. 

“S’cute,” Phil just reiterated. 

“You’re cute,” Dan parroted, making a point to look Phil up and down as he sipped his coffee. “I know I said this last night,” he felt his face heat up at the memory, “but you _do_ look very sexy in those glasses.” He gave Phil a look. 

“You never stop do you?” Phil teased. 

Dan shrugged, “Maybe I’m a bit of a slut, sue me.” 

“I’ll take a raincheck,” Phil hopped off his chair and pressed a kiss to Dan’s cheek, “If I don’t leave in like, the next five minutes I’ll be late to work.” 

Dan pouted and Phil tapped at his bottom lip to get rid of the pout. Dan just smirked cheekily and bit at Phil’s finger, flicking the tip of it with his tongue. 

“God, you’re...” Phil trailed off in a low voice before pulling his finger back. 

“You didn’t do yourself any favors waking me up this early, my inhibitions are basically nonexistent.” 

“Noted,” Phil smirked and then turned to grab his pile of clothes from the dining table. 

The bells on his costume jingled and Dan rolled his eyes, “How much do I have to pay you to not put that on right now?” 

Phil shook the pile of clothes in his hand, the bells louder than before, “You know, there are people out there that’s fantasy is me in this costume,” he winked his weird double eyed wink. “Besides, I don’t have time to go back to my flat or change at work or I’ll be late.” 

“Fine,” Dan groaned and slid off his own chair, “Give me a kiss before you become my worst nightmare.” His tone was light and Phil shook his head with a smile. He pressed a chaste kiss to Dan’s lips and pulled away far quicker than Dan would have liked. 

“I really have to go, Dan.” Phil warned when Dan whined in the back of his throat. 

“Okay, okay,” Dan held his hands up and stepped past Phil and over to his dresser by his bed. He flung a pair of black Calvin’s at a now shirtless Phil’s face, “Fresh pair,” he informed him. “I have like, a million new pairs of these from that spon, you’re doing me a service taking them from me.” 

Phil squeaked and caught the pants, Dan made a point to cross his arms and watch as Phil stripped and put the elf costume back on. 

“What?” Dan smirked at Phil’s shaking head when he realized Dan was staring. “If you have to put that awful thing back on, the least I can do is enjoy the view.” Phil stuck his tongue out at him and Dan laughed. 

Phil pulled the jingly hat over his head and a mischievous look appeared on his face. 

“No...” Dan warned him. Phil continued to cross the room to where Dan was anyways, an exaggerated puckered pout on his face. 

“Come here Danny, let me kiss you!” The bells on Phil’s outfit filled the room as Dan darted away from him. Phil chased after him. Two grown men giggling and running circles around Dan’s small flat, Dan shrieking “ _no”s_ and “ _get away from me”s_ and Phil making gross, sloppy kissing sounds. Dan knew the people that lived next to him, and under him, and probably even a few floors down from him would be putting in noise complaints, but he couldn’t care less. 

“Ahh!” Dan shrieked when Phil finally got a hold around his waist, gripping him tight from behind, and planting a wet kiss to the side of Dan’s face. “I hate you!” 

Phil laughed, deep and loud, “I just wanted,” he squeezed Dan tighter and another wet kiss landed on his cheek, “to kiss,” Dan turned his head and let Phil kiss his mouth, “my boyfriend.” Phil huffed and let go of Dan. 

Dan stood there dumbstruck for a moment, before turning back to Phil with a grin on his face so large it almost hurt. 

“Your boyfriend?” Dan said in a high, teasing voice. 

Phil returned his grin, grabbed his phone off Dan’s dresser, and started backing towards the door. “Yep”, he answered confidently, popping the “P” at the end. 

“I like the sound of that.” Dan sat on his bed and watched Phil pull on his shoes and coat. 

“Me too.” Phil smiled when he looked back over at Dan, “Am I getting a kiss goodbye?” he asked, hovering by the door. 

Dan just shook his head, a smug grin on his face.

Phil laughed and turned to open the door. “You...horrible boy,” he tutted over his shoulder and they both held in giggles that desperately wanted to spill out. And with that, Phil was out the door, it softly shutting behind him. Dan could hear his jingle bells chiming as he walked down the hall. The smile never left his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this into my initial note but I wanted to pop it here too as this is the day I did it but just so yall know:   
> I went through and edited all my tags and my initial note after seeing that the big network known for their Christmas movies that starts with an H and ends with an allmark just did some homophobic nonsense by removing an advertisement featuring two women kissing claiming that they didn't want to air "controversial" ads meanwhile they air the same exact ads with cis men and women kissing so like.......yeah....I am pretty peeved and Really want zero association of that name with this little queer love story so yeah, just wanted to let all of y'all know that. All in all, don't support that homophobic network, donate to the HRC, and stan netflix's let it snow for giving us a good christmas movie with lesbians.
> 
> thanks so much for reading as always <3


	15. Chapter 15

The cold air was relentless, whipping at Dan’s face, and sending a shiver down his spine as he made his way through the streets of London. In hindsight, he thought, as he shoved his gloved hands further into his pockets, he should have splurged on a cab to Phil’s. He looked up at the sky, it would probably start raining any minute. The overpriced taxi didn’t look as bad now.

He pulled out a hand to reposition his scarf further up his neck from where it kept sliding down. He also probably should have worn a warmer scarf than his thin, silk McQueen one that had the little black and white skulls and roses on it. But Dan was nothing if not an artist suffering for his art. Or, _minus the melodrama_ , Dan was just too perpetually lazy to change into something more seasonally appropriate after shooting a few pictures for his Instagram. 

Dan turned down Phil’s street, making a pit stop at the Dominos a few blocks away from his flat to pick up the order he had placed for them before he left. The warmth of the shop made the remaining five minute walk to Phil’s building even more insufferably cold. Not to mention, the garlicky pizza smell that assaulted his nose as he collected their food made his stomach start to scream in protest.

He really only made it worse for himself, holding the two large boxes and the plastic bag of two of every dip the chain sold up to his face, snapping a quick Instagram story. He tapped out the caption: **_forgive me father for i have sinned_ ** with the one exposed thumb he had pulled out of his glove and added it to his story. It would have been smarter (this is becoming an overarching theme in Dan’s day, he noted) for them to have gotten it delivered instead, but Dan wanted to surprise Phil with his favorite pizza. Over the past few weeks they started an unspoken competition of who could out ‘good boyfriend’ the other, but it was less of a competition and more them always wanting to put a smile on the other’s face. Dan stopping by Phil’s job with a coffee during his break, when Phil had sent him a text that morning complaining about an oncoming migraine. Phil showing up at Dan’s door at eleven at night with a box of vegan cupcakes, after Dan had tweeted about craving them. Maybe Dan’s competitive side had a bit to do with it as well, and he quickly learned that Phil could get just as bad as him. 

Dan won’t admit that the bigger reason for not getting it delivered was because he was _really_ in a _give me all the meats and cheese_ mood, and he knew that Phil would have tried to get him to order something more vegan if he didn’t. Phil was the main reason why Dan’s cheat meals became few and far between. It made Dan’s heart ache, in a good way...he thinks, when he realized it wasn’t about Phil trying to make Dan feel guilty about not sticking to his diet like most people did once they found out about his attempts at veganism. When Dan questioned him about it after Phil had taken them to yet another vegan restaurant for dinner, he explained it was because he often felt guilty, like him eating meat and dairy around Dan would peer pressure him into slipping out of his diet. Dan had assured him there was no validity to that worry, but Phil just brushed him off. They had barely known each other for a month, and yet Phil had already been the most accommodating and encouraging person Dan has ever met. He was always searching for vegan friendly places for them to eat at, and there were a few times where he would order the same thing as Dan, always with a “ _try new things?”_ and a shrug when Dan would give him a look. Yeah, it made Dan’s heart ache in a good way. 

Dan stepped up to Phil’s building, noting how it was way more nondescript in comparison to his own. If he hadn’t pulled up street view when Phil texted him his address, he probably would have just walked right by it. He peered at the side of the door and easily found the button next to “ _P. Lester”_ and pressed it. There were only two other names above and below Phil’s, much unlike the fifty or so that were on the buzzer panel at Dan’s. Instead of the door clicking, Dan heard quick footsteps echoing from the other side of the door. 

The door flung open to Phil and Dan smiled. He raked his eyes up and down Phil’s body, shaking his head at his jumper with a t-rex wearing a santa hat and his red tartan pajama pants. When he stopped at Phil’s face, he noticed how red Phil’s eyes were. Dan’s smiled pulled down into a frown. 

“Hey! Oh! You got pizza!” Phil smiled at Dan and pulled him into the hall. Dan let the door swing shut behind him and cocked his head at Phil’s back as he followed him up two flights of stairs. 

“Have you been crying?” Dan couldn’t help but ask when they got to Phil’s open door, Phil turning to show him in. 

Phil gave him a quizzical look, but then just as quickly a wash of realization passed over his face. His eyes crinkled and he let out a laugh, “No...well, yes, but no.” He maneuvered around the large pizza boxes to give Dan a kiss once the door was shut behind them. “They just released the new John Lewis Christmas advert...those always make me cry. The window display at the store this year is cute, but _the advert...gosh_...it made me weep,” he explained, then pressed a kiss on Dan’s nose before taking the boxes from him. 

Dan began to unwrap all his layers and kick off his shoes, “You’re a right sap, Phil Lester.” 

“I won’t deny it,” Phil grinned. Dan placed his boots in between Phil’s white converse and his black vans that were sat on a mat by the door. He smirked at the image, Phil rarely fit into Dan’s color scheme, yet his black boots looked right at home here, snuggled between Phil’s shoes. 

“You can hang your coat in there,” Phil nodded his head towards a door and Dan followed his instruction. He slotted his parka next to a bright red bomber jacket and pulled his scarf off of his neck to sling it over his coat. “We can start the grand tour in the kitchen,” Phil started to lead Dan down the hallway, “Thanks for picking this up, I was going to ask if you wanted to order in when you got here,” Phil turned his head to smile at Dan. 

“S’alright.” Dan followed Phil around a corner and through an open door, “I got your favorite,” he added in a sing-song voice and Phil immediately set the boxes down to open them. Dan looked around, his nosiness overpowering his overwhelming desire to stare at Phil. Phil’s kitchen was significantly bigger than Dan’s, but it was nothing to write home to. It just seemed like Phil had more of a _real_ adult apartment, in comparison to Dan’s studio, from the little he’s seen already. The first box Phil opened was indeed his, and Phil groaned in appreciation when he saw it. 

“You’re the best.” 

“Mm,” Dan grinned and shut the pizza box in front of Phil with a big, open palm. Phil pouted in response and Dan just laughed, “If we eat now, I will be too stuffed to move, and I would like the grand tour.” 

Phil’s pout got impossibly sadder, “Fine, but you’re only getting the highlights now, because I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” 

Dan shook his head at Phil and Phil’s stomach emphasized his point. “Okay, I’ll take what I can get,” he laughed and Phil led him out of the kitchen. 

As Phil led him around, Dan noted four major things about Phil’s flat. It was big, much bigger than Dan’s, but that wasn’t much of a feat. It was homey, every inch of Phil’s space felt lived in, to the point where some people would probably call it a bit cluttered or messy. It was cozy, it was incredibly warm both temperature wise and feeling wise. But the most glaring detail of Phil’s flat, one that Dan shouldn’t have been so surprised about, was that it was _fully_ decorated for Christmas. 

Phil showed Dan the dining room - slash - what Phil referred to as the “ _fancy lounge”_ that was across from the kitchen. Dan didn’t ask what Phil meant by that, too busy taking in the dark hardwood floors that matched the dining set on one side of the room. There was a large grey rug anchoring the living space, with an emerald green love-seat and two matching chairs in front of a fireplace in the wall. The mantle of the fireplace was covered in garland and red and green tinsel. Dan walked up to it to inspect the little figures that sat on the mantle. Little deer, squirrels, and other woodland creatures stared back at him. To the left of the fireplace, in the corner by the window, was a small fir tree - maybe only four feet tall. It was lit up and decorated in the same tinsel as the mantel. Tiny red and green baubles hung on its branches. The room smelled like gingerbread and marshmallows - thanks to the two candles on the wooden coffee table. Dan noticed one sat on top of what looked like two hardcover graphic novels, he smiled. It’s so quintessentially _Phil_ to have graphic novels as coffee table books. 

“What in the HGTV is this?” Dan raised his eyebrows when he turned back around to Phil, who was leaning against the doorframe of the lounge. 

“I told you it was the fancy lounge,” Phil chided. “I watch a lot of home shows and get _inspired._ Don’t shame me.” 

“Not shaming, it’s beautiful in here,” Dan held his hands up as he walked towards Phil. Phil blushed and mumbled a “ _thank you”._ “I watch too many home improvement YouTube videos to shame,” he added, laughing, and followed Phil out of the room. 

“We are really the same person,” Phil hummed. 

“It’s gross.”

“I love it.” 

Dan smiled and followed Phil as he pointed out an office and a bathroom before taking him up a set of stairs. _Yeah,_ this place had _stairs._ Inside. Like a proper house. Maybe Dan was just a bit jealous. He voiced as such, and Phil just brushed him off with a blush. 

“You know what I’m not jealous of,” Dan said in response as they walked up the stairs. “This monstrosity,” he cringed as he let a hand run over the garland and _fucking_ fairy lights that were wrapped around the bannister. 

“Hey!” Phil scolded and gently caressed the end of the garland at the top of the stairs, like he was comforting it from Dan’s insults. “You can hate Christmas all you want but you can’t be mean to my decorations.” Phil held a hand out to grab Dan’s, Dan let him. “They make me happy.” He added with a giggle. 

“Okay, Martha Stewart,” Dan rolled his eyes and only let _some_ of the teasing tone leak into his voice. Even if Dan wasn’t a fan, which - _okay, maybe_ \- he was starting to question, he couldn’t deny that it looked like Phil put a lot of love and effort into his Christmas decorations. 

Phil scoffed as he tugged Dan along, “Down that way is my room and another bathroom,” he gestured towards a hallway with two doors. “And here,” he pulled Dan through an open door right across from the top of the stairs, “is the cozy lounge.” 

The gears turned in Dan’s head until they clicked, “You have _two_ lounges?!” Dan didn’t even register what Phil said back to him as he checked out the room. 

It was undoubtedly cozy, with what Dan assumed was one of those ultra plush, huge sectional couches in the middle of the room. It was dark grey and more like a bed and sofa hybrid than a couch, but it wasn’t one of those cheap, sofa-bed futons from ikea by any means. It just looked like a plush, soft couch on steroids. This room was once again anchored by a huge rug, this one a cobalt blue. Behind the couch, against the wall, was built in cabinetry. Sat on top of one of the shelves was a cubed fish tank. 

Dan cooed at the tank, a fish the same color as Phil’s carpet wiggled back at him. 

“Oh hello!”

“That’s my son, Norman. Norman, say hi to Dan.”

Everything in the room was bursting with color. The impressive furniture in the room gave it a similar Better Homes and Gardens vibe as the other lounge, but it definitely wasn’t as showroom perfect in here. On the couch was a rainbow of assorted throw pillows and blankets. Two matching side tables sat on either side of the couch, each adorned with a good collection of, _definitely crispy_ , plants. Phil had a large tv across from the couch, underneath it was an open entertainment center with every gaming console Dan could imagine. Phil had large floor to ceiling shelves to one side of it, filled to the brim with colorful figurines, plush toys, picture frames, and the most impressive DVD collection he had ever seen. It was cozy and nerdy in here. As Dan looked around, he thought that this is what his own personal heaven would look like. Well, besides one thing. One, very large, _very festive_ thing. 

On the other side of the TV, where the shelving was not, was a _much_ larger Christmas tree. It was probably as tall as Dan, and was thick with two c’s. He stepped closer to it - _taller_ actually, he noted as he looked up - the star on top of it threatened to touch the ceiling. This tree was decorated in a rainbow of colors, unlike the classic red and green tree downstairs. The white lights on it twinkled, and then changed colors in front of Dan’s eyes. They were twinkling blue, then green, then red, and settled on purple. Dan heard a giggle behind him. 

He turned around to see Phil holding his phone, smirking at Dan’s mystified expression. “They’re controlled by an app, look,” he took the two steps forward to be touching Dan’s shoulders and turned him back around to face the tree. Phil slung his arms over Dan’s shoulders and held his phone in front of him. Dan watched as he clicked a setting on his phone, and then the lights on the tree changed again. This time they changed to a solid striped rainbow pattern - the top bright red, then descending through all the colors of the rainbow, ending on purple on the branches at the base. Dan couldn’t help but gasp, Phil’s smug laugh rumbled against his back. 

“They say you can program every single light to individual colors,” Phil hummed in his ear, “I haven’t been that adventurous yet, but I did make gay tree a priority.” 

Dan laughed, turning his head to kiss Phil’s cheek. He couldn’t help it, the man was just too endearing for his own good. “I hate that I like the gay tree.” 

“The gay tree likes you,” Phil quipped back, wiggling his eyebrows, and Dan snorted. 

“ _Phil_ , you ruined it that sounds creepy!”

“Shhh,” Phil swiped at his phone screen again and the tree returned to its initial soft white, twinkling lights. 

“How early do you decorate?” Dan asked, unsure why he was willingly talking about Phil’s Christmas decor, something that really should be making his stomach unsettled. But it didn’t, he just felt a bit warm. “Like, don’t most people wait until December at least?” 

“I’m not most people,” Phil replied, matter-of-factly. “Besides, it’s almost December."

Dan turned around in his arms, settling his own arms around Phil’s waist, “Suuure,” he stuck his tongue out at Phil. Phil snapped his head forward, acting as if he was going to bite at Dan’s tongue. They both giggled. “But really, are you one of those people that decorates for Christmas before Halloween? Because if you are, I will seriously need to rethink this relationship,” Dan laughed, no real threat to his voice. But Phil’s face instantly pulled into a serious, almost unreadable expression. 

“Five years ago, when I moved in here,” Phil said, the unreadable expression still on his face. 

Dan furrowed his brows and looked Phil in the eye, wondering what that meant. And then it clicked. Was Phil really telling him he put up all this Christmas decor _five_ years ago...and hasn’t taken it down since? Dan’s brows shot up to his forehead, eyes wider than they have ever been, jaw slack in shock. 

Phil just stared at a shocked, stammering Dan before cracking up in laughter. He had to pull himself away from Dan just to brace himself, hands on his knees as he wheezed. 

“I’m kidding!” Phil finally got out, after Dan had yelled his tenth “ _WHAT?”_ He desperately tried to catch his breath but just kept laughing instead. “Oh man,” Phil wheezed, “the look on your face…” he burst out into laughter the second he looked up at Dan, who now had his arms crossed and a pout on his face. 

“Don’t be mad at me,” Phil pouted back, “I only said that so you would harbor less judgement towards me when I say I crack out the Christmas decor on the first of November.” He continued to laugh, and Dan couldn’t help his mouth from turning up into a smile. 

“God, I hate you.” he shook his head, grinning. 

With the promise of movies and Mario Kart while cuddled up on the couch, Phil offered Dan some comfortable clothes to change into, so they headed into Phil’s room before going back downstairs for their pizza. Phil’s room was very _Phil_ in the same way the rest of the house, but mostly the upstairs lounge, was. It was colorful and cozy, with little knick knacks, plants, and candles on every surface. The room was surprisingly small for a place with two lounges, and the majority of it was taken up by Phil’s bed. Dan smiled softly at the wintery deer printed duvet on the bed, it was _incredibly Phil._

Speaking of Phil, Dan turned from the bed to see that he had disappeared into a closet on the other side of the room. A surge of jealousy came over Dan. 

“You have a WALK-IN?” Dan half-shouted, crossing the room and entering the small space. Phil just mumbled an “ _Mhm”_ from where he was bent over a drawer pulling out _absurdly bright_ pajama pants. 

“No, no you can’t be casual about this,” Dan tutted, looking around the space. It was _very_ small for a walk in, but considering the fact that Dan had given up hope on ever finding a place in London within his budget that had the luxury, it seemed massive to him. He looked around and ran his hand across a row of Phil’s clothes, scowling when he noticed there was a whole section of Christmas jumpers and suits in similar gaudy patterns to his mistletoe one. He inspected the sleeve of a bright green suit that had gingerbread men doing karate poses all over it, not knowing whether to smile or go run to wash his hands - as if touching the fabric would release a curse on his own wardrobe. The suit hung next to it was black, with a pattern of various Christmas things - snow globes, santas, presents, snowflakes, among other things - that looked like little neon signs. Dan would absolutely not admit that he kind of liked it. He pulled his attention away from the rack, and turned back to Phil before he could get any more bad fashion ideas in his head, “I would die for your flat Phil, I would simply _die._ ” 

Phil snorted and handed Dan a pair of pajama pants and a Stranger Things jumper. “The people that owned this place before me were super into renovations and modernizing everything,” he said casually, as if that was a casual thing to say. “This building is really old, my neighbors’ apartments are still original and are pretty much identical to each other. It’s funny to compare them to mine.” Phil laughed and they stepped out of the closet so Dan actually had room to change. 

Dan tossed the clothes on Phil’s bed and started the process of pulling his jeans off, “So you _own_ this place, what the _fuck_ Phil.” He sat on the bed with his jeans around his ankles, pulling at the tight material to free them. 

“A mortgage isn’t that much different from renting,” Phil shrugged and got down on a knee to free the ankle that Dan wasn’t currently working on.

Dan hissed when Phil wasn’t exactly gentle, “Be careful, these are expensive! _”_

“I don’t know why you got so dressed up for a lazy night in,” he patted at Dan’s bare knee once they had worked his jeans off. 

“Was working,” Dan mumbled as he got up to pull on the pajamas, “Anyways, thats beside the point, Mister _a mortgage isn’t that much different from renting,”_ he held up finger quotes while impersonating Phil’s northern accent, “You’re such a proper adult, what the fuck?” 

Phil just laughed, “Uh yeah, I mean...I am in my thirties.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Dan groaned, hugging the soft material of Phil’s jumper to his body, “I would like to live in my blissful ignorance thinking that I’m closer to twenty-two than thirty.” Dan wanted to frown at the thought but he was currently enveloped in so much of _Phil_ \- in his home, wearing clothes that smelled like him, Phil’s hand wrapping around his own to lead him back downstairs - that he couldn’t bring himself to. 

“Thirty isn’t _old_ ,” Phil scoffed, “don’t say it like that.” he tapped a finger against Dan’s knuckles as they walked down the hallway and towards the stairs. 

“Yeah, well, tell that to my creaky back when I wake up every morning.” 

“I’d bet that has nothing to do with your age and everything to do with the way you sit in bed on your laptop, Dan.” 

“Okay, I did not come here to be attacked like this,” Dan playfully shoved his shoulder against Phil's, almost sending them toppling down the stairs. Phil squeaked at the movement, but shoved Dan back once they got their footing. 

Once they reheated the pizza, they brought their piled high plates - Dan’s hand clutching his bag of dips - up to the cozy lounge. They ate and chatted about their respective weeks, as they both had been too busy to see each other until now. They both had so much to say, even though they had talked on the phone most nights anyways. Phil poked fun at Dan’s dips that took up almost half of the coffee table, but was also dipping his own slices into the collection by the end of the meal. He didn’t even bat an eye at Dan’s, _definitely no where near vegan,_ pizza. Dan appreciated that. 

Once they were finished, Dan begged Phil to let him feed the fish, and he watched as the little blue betta jumped for his bloodworms. He laughed when the fish kept missing and gobbling up water instead, “He’s not the smartest, is he?” Dan put a gentle finger to the glass and Norman swam up to him, then darted back to hide behind a rock. 

Phil gasped and held a hand to his chest, “Dan! You will apologize to my son, right now.” 

“Sorry Norman.” 

“He says apology accepted.” 

“Phil, it’s a fish.” 

“ _He’s_ a genius and we understand each other.” 

Phil had stopped to light one of the candles on the coffee table (by the light brown color and hint of scent that began to fill Dan’s nose, he would guess it was some kind of chocolate gingerbread concoction) when he got up to retrieve the switch controllers. Phil tossed one to Dan, after they had argued over which of the two was the _better_ controller. 

_“It’s the same thing, it doesn’t matter.”_

_“Phil, I can’t believe you! They’re completely different gaming experiences!”_

As the controller passed over the table, and the candle (it surprisingly falling into Dan’s lap), Dan remembered something. 

“Hey didn’t you have candles lit downstairs?” Dan looked at Phil quizzically, and Phil’s eyes became impossibly wide. 

“Shit!” he exclaimed and shot up from the couch and out of the room. Dan could hear a muffled, “ _I do this all the time!”_ being muttered as the other man ran down the stairs.

 _All the time,_ Dan repeated in his head, and made a mental note that maybe - if he was going to get Phil something for Christmas - he should get him a voucher for a fire safety class...or two...or four.

Phil had returned, completely out of breath, to Dan shaking his head at him from their blanket cocoon on the couch. He didn’t come back empty handed though, a bottle of rosé and two stemless wine glasses in his arms. Once Phil had poured them each a glass and settled them back into a comfortable position, Dan was certain there was no place he would rather be than here, on this couch, with this specific idiot sat in his lap. 


	16. Chapter 16

Dan was in a surprisingly good mood as he exited the office building he had just finished a meeting in. He wasn’t the type for in person meetings, feeling far more comfortable with email correspondence for any opportunities that came his way, but this smaller, local brand had reached out to him for something more kin to a collaboration than a sponsorship. That was a first, so Dan didn’t instantly shoot down the idea of a face to face meeting. 

Dan was excited, but completely full of nerves in the days leading up to the scheduled meeting. They increased tenfold when he woke that morning, far earlier than usual, and made his way out of his flat. Phil had assured him multiple times, from the second Dan showed him their initial email and told him about the meeting, that there was nothing to worry about. _“They already love you”, “They want to work with you”, “Your ideas are brilliant”_ Phil had hummed into his ear over and over again the previous night. Dan couldn’t help but believe him - with his secure arms wrapped around Dan’s middle, like he was trying to squeeze the self-doubt out of him - but that didn’t mean his nerves would go away. 

But his nerves were gone now, he couldn’t feel them anymore as he shoved his hands into his pockets once he stepped out the door onto the cold London street. The meeting went far better than he could have ever imagined, the two women who ran the independent jewelry company were down to earth and relatable. Dan looked back towards the building, at the pride flag in one of the higher up windows. He noticed it when he first arrived, things like that always caught his eye. He was delighted when he was brought up to the company’s office in the shared building and saw that same flag in the meeting room window. They were lovely, and true to Phil’s words, they _did_ think Dan’s ideas were brilliant. Everything about the situation felt like a perfect fit, easing Dan’s nerves and doubts. 

So he was in a good mood, an incredibly good mood, and all he could think about was how much he wanted to show off the mock up designs that he worked on with them. He didn’t want to be in the excitement alone, and he obviously couldn’t share the details with his followers yet, so he turned in the direction of a now _very_ familiar street, letting his feet take him to Phil. 

The warm blast of air that hit him once he entered the department store prompted him to pull off his gloves, tucking them into a coat pocket, and unwrap his scarf from around his neck, letting it hang loosely. He was buzzing with too much excitement to be phased, _or even realize that he wasn’t phased_ , by the holiday displays that were now in full swing. He just hummed to himself, a tune from a video game, as he stepped towards the escalators and rode them up to the third floor. 

Dan stood to the side, between a Christmas tree display and a rack of greeting cards, watching as his boyfriend interacted with two other men. He didn’t even care that his dimples were on full view, not being able to help himself from smiling as Phil was, _well,_ Phil. He was laughing and joking with the customers as he expertly wrapped a large box in bright red paper, and they were smiling and joking back with him. It wasn’t the first time - and Dan was sure it wouldn’t be the last - that Dan saw how Phil could light up a room and put absolute strangers under his spell. Phil was a light. He just was. 

Of course Phil was in a new tacky outfit that Dan hadn’t seen before, he was starting to worry just how much of his income went to awful Christmas suits and costumes. Maybe Dan could understand the whole ugly Christmas sweater thing, _maybe_. They _were_ genuinely in style this time of year. Even the luxury brands Dan loved would make their own spin-off of the garb, much to his dismay. But he absolutely could not get behind all of the monstrosities that Phil wore to work. Which today, was a forest green blazer with a printed string of lights wrapping around his torso and arms. Actual lit up lights were dotted about the jacket, matching the headband that was pushed up over his quiff. Four large multicolored light bulbs stuck straight out of it, both pieces - quite literally - making Phil glow. As Dan stepped closer, when the two customers Phil was helping were walking away from the counter, he noticed the blazer actually was printed to look like the branches of a Christmas tree. 

_Who even is Phil Lester? Where the hell does he find these things? And why the hell do I still want to just eat him up, right here right now?_

Life’s unanswerable questions. Dan shook his head, smile never leaving his face, and finally made eye contact with Phil. 

“Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree,” Dan held a hand to his heart, hamming up his theater kid voice, “how lovely are thy branches.” 

Phil laughed, his face somehow lighting up brighter than his outfit, his tongue catching between his teeth. He did a quick scan of the shop behind Dan when he got up to the counter, and leaned over it to press a quick kiss to his mouth. 

“So you _do_ know Christmas songs?” Phil teased, with a glint in his eye, once he pulled away. He then quickly pretended to look like he was busy tidying the counter. 

“‘Course I do,” Dan huffed and immediately regretted his answer when he saw the mischievous look on Phil’s face. He held a finger up to Phil’s chest, “No, don’t look at me like that, that does not mean I’m going to change my _no Christmas music when we hang out_ rule, mate.” 

Phil pouted, and Dan resisted his desire to lean over the counter to pull at his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“Hi,” he said instead. 

“Hi,” Phil’s pout instantly pulled up into a grin, “what are you doing here?” as he spoke, he reached over to squeeze Dan’s hand that was resting on the counter. “How did your meeting go?” His hand was pulled away quickly, Phil stepping away from the counter to collect the bits of wrapping paper scraps that were left on the wrapping table, but the look he gave Dan before turning away made him feel like his hand was still there. 

“Amazing, actually,” Dan grinned, “They were _so_ cool and they liked all of my ideas, we’re even looking at the idea of doing a bracelet set as well as the earring set that I told you about before,” he babbled on, telling Phil all of the details as Phil tidied up. 

“And oh!” Dan interrupted his own re-telling to pull his phone out of his coat pocket, “Look! We drew up the designs together.” He pulled the file up on his phone and Phil leaned over the counter to take it from him. They leaned into each other’s space and Dan pointed at the screen, tapping to zoom in, “This is what the earrings will look like, see,” he zoomed back out to show all seven of the designs. None of the designs were a matching pair, an ode to Dan’s signature one earring look. 

“It’s very you,” Phil said fondly, pushing Dan’s finger out of the way so he could zoom back in on the drawing of a small silver hoop, then a silver triangle, then zoomed back out. “ _So_ you,” he repeated, looking up at Dan. Dan preened under Phil’s gaze, feeling the blush spread across his cheeks. He swiped at the screen to show Phil the other mock-ups. 

“Look at you,” Phil smiled, squeezing Dan’s shoulder, “the start of the Daniel Howell empire.” 

“Shhhh.” Dan shoved him away, tucking his phone back into his pocket. 

“What? It’s got a nice ring to it!” Phil attempted to wink, and then went back to the cleaning he was doing. 

Dan tapped a beat out on the counter with his fingers as he watched Phil put various tubes of colorful wrapping back in their correct spots. “You’re done here soon?” 

“Mm, yeah.” Phil bent down to put something away, Dan appreciated the view. _What? He could do that, he was allowed._ “What time is it?” 

Dan pushed up his jacket sleeve to look at his watch, “like 4:30.” 

“I’m off in half an hour then,” Phil popped up and turned back around to Dan with a smile. 

“Got any plans?” Dan waggled his brows at Phil, “I was thinking celebratory takeaway and chill?” He winked - the correct, normal human way with one eye - at Phil. 

Phil bit at his lip, “Oh um, I was actually going to go to the Christmas market to do some shopping after this.”

“Oh.” 

“Do you want to…” Phil fiddled with the headband on his head, a nervous twitch to the movement, “do you want to come with me?” 

If Dan said he didn’t know why he said what he did next, he would be lying. As he looked into Phil’s hopeful eyes, he knew why. 

He reached across the counter, smoothing the creased spot between Phil’s brows gently with his thumb. He smiled, dimple poking into his cheek, “Sure.”


	17. Chapter 17

As much as Dan loved to stare at Phil, he didn’t want to hover any longer while he finished up his shift, so he meandered through the large department store until he found the cafe. He shot Phil a text to find him there when he was off, and then stared at the menu board. He got himself a coffee, black as usual, and begrudgingly ordered the peppermint mocha that was on the holiday specials board for Phil. He couldn’t help but smile when the barista handed him the two paper cups, knowing Phil would love the surprise - because Phil was like that. Dan knew those little festive things really got him going, and even though he himself wasn’t too keen, it made him happy to make Phil happy.

_God,_ why did he feel like such a hopeless romantic? _Because that’s exactly what you are,_ his mind supplied. 

_Fair._

He sipped at his coffee and scrolled through his socials as he waited for Phil. He snapped a picture of the two coffee cups on the table he was sat at. He stuck a frowning emoji over the cup that contained Phil’s coffee and added it to his story with the caption: **_currently in possession of a festive drink think i might be going soft tbqfh_ **

He scrolled on Instagram for a bit, double tapping on a few posts, and then moved to twitter. He sent out a tweet: **_feeling tingly dan is working on something vibes_** with a grinning devil emoji. And then he scrolled, catching up on his feed. 

That’s where Phil found him, a short time later, coming up to the table and placing a hand on Dan’s shoulder - pulling Dan out of his focus on a video of a cat and a baby playing together. 

“Hi,” Phil squeezed his shoulder. 

“Hi,” Dan looked up with a smile. Phil was no longer all lit up, his soft brown hair now freed from the tacky light up headband, and a light grey cable knit jumper replacing the Christmas tree blazer. He was holding his green jacket, a bag slung over his arm. Dan thought he was beautiful, like this, but also when he was lit up like a Christmas tree. _Just keep that to yourself._

Dan stood up and Phil ran his hand down Dan’s arm with the movement, squeezing his hand once, then letting go. Dan smiled, wanting nothing more than to press a kiss to his cheek, but instead handed him the full, but slightly less warm, coffee cup. 

“Thank you!” Phil beamed, instantly taking a sip and humming. “Mm, peppermint!” he smiled at Dan with his eyes, the words buzzing as he kept the plastic lid to his mouth. 

“You’re adorable,” Dan muttered, shaking his head. Phil’s eyes just crinkled even more, Dan wasn’t sure how that was even possible. 

“I love that it’s already dark out,” Phil bumped his shoulder into Dan’s once they were all bundled up again and stepping out of the store. 

Dan quirked a brow, “You really need to work on your sarcasm voice.” 

“I’m not being sarcastic!” Phil lightly slapped at Dan’s arm with a gloved hand, “I like that it’s dark earlier, because you get more time to enjoy the lights,” he stopped walking and pointed up at the sparkling overhead lights, strung up from the buildings. The lights overhead, along with the curtain of lights that were affixed to the entire side of the department store, were so bright it could have easily been mistaken for daytime if the sky itself wasn’t turning a deep, dark blue. 

Dan’s eyes followed Phil’s hand, tilting his head up to take in the lights. Before Dan could even decide how he felt about them, Phil was grabbing his hand and tugging him up the street, with a bounce in his step that made him look not unlike an excited, overgrown child. 

“Come on, the angels are my _favorite!_ ” He turned his head to flash Dan a wide smile, all teeth and bright eyes, and pulled Dan up towards Regent Street. 

Dan just let him, quickening his own pace so they were once again walking shoulder to shoulder, he absolutely could not let his own sour feelings towards the holiday lights get in the way of the look of wonderment on Phil’s face. _Not to be cheesy,_ but Dan swore he could _feel_ the electricity from Phil’s excitement flowing through his hand. He was noticeably buzzing every time their shoulders would bump against each other. Maybe Dan could fall in love with this. _If he hasn’t already_. This feeling, the one he felt as they walked - Phil babbling to him about the lights and pointing out different store displays as they approached Oxford Circus - was something that he wanted to feel. He felt it towards Phil...not the holiday lights... _right?_ Just Phil. That was it. 

“Quick detour, I promise,” Phil squeezed Dan’s hand once and pulled them past the station, turning down the street that had a significantly larger light display. 

Was it _really_ just Phil? 

_Or could it be both?_

Dan didn’t want to answer that question, but the answer was right there - at the forefront of his mind, screaming _yes_ \- as he looked up at the gold and blue glittering angels that loomed over the length of the street. He squeezed Phil’s hand back, just once, and let him lead them down the street. 

He thinks it was because he was seeing the lights, experiencing the lights, through Phil’s eyes. He thinks that was why the sight of them didn’t squeeze at his heart in a crushing, aching way. That had to be the only explanation. That buzzing electricity between them never left as they slowly walked down the street, Phil recalling the story of the first time he ever saw the angels to Dan. He could tell that Phil felt more towards them, that there was more to it than just being _pretty._

A bittersweet feeling tugged in Dan’s chest and he stopped in his tracks, pulling Phil to a stop with him. 

“Dan?” Phil turned to look him in the eye, to question why they stopped so abruptly, but Dan didn’t notice. He was focused on the lights above, chin turned up to the sky. He squinted at the lights, as if they would answer a question he wasn’t asking. Maybe a question he didn’t want the answer to. He wished the memories that flooded his brain when he looked at the lights were more like Phil’s, he wished he could _truly_ see the lights through Phil’s eyes. They weren’t though, instead conflicting emotions tore through his chest. But it didn’t ache as badly, no, it ached a little less. For the second time since meeting Phil - felt a bit stronger than the night he spilled his guts to him - he thought that _maybe_ he could shut the door behind his baggage and start thinking about creating new memories. Ones that made him feel more like _this_. 

He smiled up at the lights, one sad, but not actually sad, dimple finally making an appearance. 

“It’s so beautiful,” he whispered. 

If he had torn his eyes away from the lights, he would have noticed that Phil’s head wasn’t turned up towards the lights like his own. Instead, he had been watching the lights glisten in the reflection of Dan’s eyes. 

“My favorite thing in all of London,” Phil hummed, tapping his thumb against Dan’s hand. Dan squeezed his hand back, gave one final look at the row of shimmering angels that lined the street, then turned back towards Phil. The blue of the lights and the blue of Phil’s eyes, _Dan decided_ , he loved them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wondering what wine would be best paired with all this cheese


	18. Chapter 18

After Phil had managed to pull Dan away from the lights display ( _yes_ , in a surprising turn of events, not the other way around) they headed towards South Bank. If it were any other day, in any other situation, Dan would have gone to the ends of the earth - or well, would have paid surge prices for a cab and accepted traffic making the journey twice as long - to not be on the tube during a peak rush hour time. But he couldn’t even be bothered being packed in like a sardine in a tin, when Phil was the one he was pushed up against. Phil giggled in his ear as they exchanged whispers, making up little life stories of the strangers in the train car around them during the ride. It was nice, Dan realized, to have someone else that was as weird as himself to share the little games he would play in his own head. Never in a million years would he had guessed that he would find another person that was so similar to him, someone that wasn’t a carbon copy of himself - quite the opposite actually - but somehow still was a perfect match. 

The word “ _soulmate_ ” bounced around in his brain, and he quickly locked it away into the filing cabinet of impossible things. 

When they arrived at the winter market, Phil had kept his buzzing excitement from earlier and Dan could tell that he was truly in his element. This alone convinced Dan to tune out any alarm bells that began to sound off in his brain. This was just a shopping excursion Phil wanted to go on, it didn’t have to be about Christmas or anything that made Dan’s stomach sour, it was about Phil. And tonight, Dan just wanted to be with Phil. _New memories_ , Phil’s voice and his own took the place of the usual alarm bells. 

Dan bumped his shoulder against Phil’s, interrupting Phil babbling to him about how much nicer the river looked at this time of night, to point at one of the lit up, wooden stalls. “Can we get a mulled wine?” he asked, shooting Phil a meek smile when he looked where Dan was pointing. 

Phil’s face lit up, “We can get _one hundred_ mulled wines if that’s what you want,” he replied in a serious tone. Ready to give Dan the world and beyond, anything he wants, just for not being an absolute grump at a festive market. 

“Okay Christmas boy, don’t get too used to my enthusiasm,” he shoved at Phil’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “I think you’ve just caught me in a good mood.” 

Phil absolutely beamed, teeth and tongue on full view, then let it fall into more of a smug grin. The action said more than any words. Dan just rolled his eyes and grabbed at Phil’s elbow to drag him into line for the mulled wine. 

“Do I want a wine or a cider?” Phil pondered aloud as they waited. Dan knew he was all in on the wine, he couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper, hot spiced mulled wine. Years, probably. 

“Are you in more of a wine mood or a rum mood?” 

Phil bit his lip, looking at the hot drinks sign, then back to Dan. “I don’t know,” he pouted, bottom lip jutting out. Dan doesn’t think he will ever understand how Phil could sometimes carry the aura of a small child and a grown man at the same time. It was endearing, if not a little bit annoying - but like, in a cute way, a Phil way. 

He tapped a finger against Phil’s lip, making him tug his lip back inward, but Phil kept the puppy dog eyes. Maybe he would do anything for this man...maybe _, just don’t go spreading that around._

“Let’s get one of each,” Dan decided, “We can share, or you can decide which one you want from there, I’m not bothered either way.” 

And that’s exactly what they did, sipping from steaming cups as they walked around the market and along the river. Every so often they would switch cups, a bump of a shoulder against another initiating a silent pass off - whatever homemade gifts they were looking at, or discussion they were having, went uninterrupted. Phil never decided which he wanted more, so when they passed another hot drink stall, Dan got one of each again and their arrangement continued. 

They adopted a similar system for food as well. Phil _wanting_ to try the new, more adventurous things, but being too afraid of not liking them, so they would get something new and something familiar as well - knowing Dan would eat anything that Phil didn’t like. And Dan, insisting that if they got something non-vegan to share (which was most things) he wasn’t _technically_ cheating on his diet, because they were sharing. Phil made quick work of teasing him about how that made no logical sense at all. Dan just shushed him when he did, popping the last piece of sausage they were sharing in his mouth for emphasis. 

“ _I think sausage just tastes better in the evening, don’t you Dan?”_

_“Phil please - I cannot stress this enough - shut up.”_

_“It’s just not as good in the morning! No one wants sausage in the morning...”_

_“Phil, I will throw you into the Thames.”_

They walked, and shopped, and ate - mostly ate. The only thing Phil absolutely refused to try was the melty raclette on bread that Dan was moaning over. He scrunched up his nose and made exaggerated gagging noises next to Dan, as the person in the stall scraped a huge chunk of melted cheese off of the wheel and onto a slice of baguette. 

“I don’t know how you can do that,” Phil put more of a distance between the two of them as Dan received his paper carton that was about 99% cheese, 1% bread. 

Dan pulled off a glove with his teeth and stuffed it into his pocket. “Like this,” Dan winked and picked up the smothered piece of bread, shoving a cheesy bite into his mouth. He moaned, closing his eyes as he chewed. He could hear Phil making noises of disgust beside him. 

“It’s not that much different from pizza, Phil,” he chided once he swallowed. 

Phil shook his head, “Lies!” 

Dan shook his head right back at him and a devilish grin took over his face. He popped the rest of the cheese covered bread into his mouth and stepped into Phil’s space. He was planting a brave, cheesy kiss directly to Phil’s mouth before he had the chance to react or step away. 

“Mmph,” Phil said against Dan’s mouth, his attempt at pulling away futile with Dan’s firm grasp on his coat. Dan put him out of his misery quickly enough, the kiss honestly a bit gross with all the cheese in and on his mouth, and because they _were_ currently standing in the middle of a busy public market. But the risk was worth it when he let Phil go, pulling away to see the impossibly more than disgusted look on his face in response to Dan’s antics. Dan knew the pink that fell over Phil’s cheeks wasn’t just from the cold. 

“I...hate...you…” Phil emphasized his point, wiping at his mouth with the back of his gloved hand between every word. 

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“You have to admit though, the cheese was good...right?” 

Phil made a face, “I didn’t think there was anything in the world that would make me not want to kiss you.” Phil bumped his hand into Dan’s, reaching his pinky finger out to loop around Dan’s. “Turns out, that was it.”

“Gross.” 

“You said it, not me.” 

“I was talking about you.”

“Shut up!” 

They perused the wares of the market, now on their third round of hot beverages - this time, hot chocolates. Even though he had his own, Phil had stolen the big marshmallow off of the top of Dan’s cup the second Dan had looked away to inspect the design on a wood carving of a bird sat in a tree. 

“This is really -” Dan stopped his thought to squint his eyes at Phil once he turned back to him, noticing his cheek was puffed out like a hamster. He looked at the cup in his hand to see the marshmallow in his hot chocolate was mysteriously missing. 

Phil swallowed and stepped ahead of Dan, pointing at a circular wood ornament with the city skyline burned into it, “Dan look at this!” 

Dan knew he was trying to distract him from his obvious theft, and Dan just let him. _Damn,_ was he a sucker for Phil Lester. 

“This would be perfect for Kath,” Phil pulled the ornament off from where it was hanging and ran his hand over the design. 

“Pretty,” Dan leaned into Phil to look at the design, “bit touristy though, innit?” 

Phil shook his head, “Maybe...but I get her something from here every year, she loves the homemade stuff and she’s always saying how much she wants _bits and bobs that make her think of her boys_.” Phil huffed, his hand not holding the ornament holding up air quotes that were really just him opening and closing his whole hand. A fond look washed over his face. Dan’s heart ached. “Whatever that means,” Phil shrugged, “but Mar and I deduced that we think she likes it when we gift her the touristy London things, since we’re both here and they’re all the way on the Isle now.” 

“She’ll love it then,” Dan smiled, trying to will away the feeling starting to creep its way into the pit of his stomach for the first time all night. It wasn’t even the usual heart crushing feeling that he got when he thought about family or the holidays, _no,_ it was...it felt like... _jealousy?_ No, _that couldn’t be right_ …Whatever it was, he pushed it away, instead focusing on the little dog carving sat on top of the till that Phil was now pointing out to him. 

After Phil had bought the gift for his mum, they continued on. They walked from little lit up shop to shop as Phil worked through ticking people off of his Christmas shopping list. It was quite cold out for London, but Dan felt warm all the way through. Whether that be from the alcohol and hot chocolate coursing through his veins, or possibly just from spending time with Phil. It was probably the former, but Dan would argue it was the latter. _Go ahead, sue him for being a sap._ If he wanted to be a bit of a hopeless romantic, why shouldn’t he? He’s gone so long being so cynical, closing his heart off in an attempt to salvage whatever was left of it. So, why not embrace the cliché when he’s finally ready to open his heart up to another person? _Yeah,_ Dan was being a sap. 

“Can you take a picture of me for my Instagram?” Phil held his phone out to Dan as they approached a tall Christmas tree in the center of the market. The lights on the tree were a soft white glow, matching the string lights that were strung across overhead. 

“Of course,” Dan opened the camera and assessed the scene in front of him. He was already dividing up the image in his mind, framing it and toying with figuring out what would be the best angle, before Phil had even stepped up in front of the tree. 

“Move a bit to the left,” Dan instructed, hand not holding the phone motioning as if he was pushing at Phil’s shoulder to budge him over. 

“I didn’t think this through, did I?” Phil laughed, but complied, shuffling over. 

Dan snorted, “I do this for a living, if you thought I was going to tap and go that’s _your_ fault, not mine,” he stuck his tongue out at Phil for good measure. Phil laughed candidly - head tilting back a bit, tongue catching between his teeth - and Dan snapped a photo. That one was mostly for himself. 

“Okay, give me your pose,” Dan said once they stopped laughing at each other, and Phil pulled his face together, giving him a more composed smile. Dan looked at him through the phone screen and pursed his lips, he wasn’t happy with the angle. Dan was nothing if not the perfect Instagram boyfriend, so he bent down on a knee to angle the camera up towards Phil. He saw Phil quirk a brow at him through the camera at the movement, but he was good and quickly composed his face without Dan having to nag him about it. 

With the new angle, Dan decided he had the perfect shot. He snapped a few pictures until he was satisfied. Okay, maybe with Phil as the subject behind the camera his perfect shot came _far_ more quicker than if it was his own, but he couldn’t help it. It might just be impossible to take a less than perfect picture of Phil. 

“You’re really pretty,” Dan hummed as he stood back up and Phil made the few steps back to him. He flicked through the pictures he took, all the angles of Phil’s face illuminated by the tree and the fairy lights all around the market, the lights strung overhead visible in the image from Dan’s low angle. “I would do unspeakable things for those cheekbones,” he added as he handed the phone back to Phil, who was now sporting a much rosier look to his cheeks. He emphasized his point with a gentle poke to the blush on Phil’s face. 

“Do you want me to take one of you?” Phil asked, waving his phone in his hand. 

“You know that’s not really my thing,” Dan looked up at the tree looming over them, a slight frown taking over his features. 

Phil hummed and tapped the toe of his sneaker to Dan’s boot, “Can we take one together?” Dan looked away from the tree to Phil’s expectant face. His heart melted in his chest. 

“For you?” 

Phil nodded. “Just for me,” his tone making it sound so obvious, like he hadn’t had any other plans. Once it was said, Dan wasn’t entirely sure why he would even assume otherwise. 

“Okay,” Dan made grabby hands towards Phil’s phone, “but give it to me, I have better selfie arms.” 

“How do you know that?” Phil tutted but handed his phone over easily. 

“I have long arms, I’m practically a selfie stick.” Dan replied, matter-of-factly, and followed Phil right up to the tree to take a shot up against the twinkling branches. 

“We literally have the same size arms,” Phil rolled his eyes, but pressed his cheek into Dan’s for the photo. 

“You tell yourself that, bub.” Dan quipped, then let a wide smile take over his face upon looking at their image on the phone screen. Phil’s face was pressed against his, blue eyes crinkling from the force of his own smile. Dan’s mind didn’t even redirect him to his internal checklist for posing, as it always did when a camera came out. He just smiled authentically, his own eyes crinkling as his face pulled into an expression that could only be described as a happy loaf of bread. He tapped at the screen until Phil began to laugh next to him, reaching his hand out to snatch the phone from Dan’s grip, teasing about not needing _one million_ pictures of them in his camera roll. The soft look they gave each other, after they stopped laughing and fighting like children for Phil’s phone, made them both aware that exactly the opposite of Phil’s teasing was true. 

They ate some more, and went onto their fourth round of drinks - Dan insisting they actually hydrate with water, but giving in to Phil’s pleas for one last shared mulled wine. This time, they looped around the market trying every sweet and dessert. Phil happily loading up on enough sugar to keep him awake for the next two weeks. They both agreed that it was _absolutely necessary_ to try each and every mince pie that they came across. 

“I cannot stand when people say every mince pie tastes the same!” Dan waved his hands around as he ranted. 

“No, I agree they’re all different.” Phil nodded his head as he inspected the little pie that Dan had just bitten into before handing it to him. “Not all mince pies are created equal.” He bit into it and contemplated as he chewed. 

“What do you think?” 

“Three,” they both said at the same time, instantly turning to look each other in the eye with the serendipity. They laughed and Phil offered Dan the last bite of the pie, Dan shaking his head and scrunching his nose in response - setting off more laughter. 

“We need to be, like, documenting this,” Dan brushed his hand against Phil’s as they walked - wanting the touches, the reminder that the other was _right there_ , but not wanting to be holding hands. “Like, a comprehensive rating system of every mince pie...ever,” he added in a hushed whisper, like it was a secret. “A codex,” he hit the back of his hand against Phil’s with the word, tapping twice to convey the gravity of the situation.

“Dan and Phil’s mince pie codex,” Phil bumped his shoulder against Dan’s, “ranking from the worst, one, to the best, ten - which obviously would be Kath’s homemade ones, hands down.” 

Dan hummed, “We both can agree Tesco’s are the worst…” Phil made a face, Dan laughed. “I’ve never had Kath’s though. So I don’t know if the rating system is accurate.” 

“You _need_ to try them!” Phil exclaimed, “The best mince pie you’ll ever have.” 

Dan hummed, looking down at his feet. 

Phil slowed his pace to a stop, tugging on Dan’s jacket sleeve to pull him aside as well. “Dan, do you…” he trailed off, biting his lip in what Dan had learned was a sign of apprehension, of worry from Phil. Phil released his lip from his teeth’s grasp and looked into Dan’s eyes, a gentle hand coming up to rest on his elbow. “Would you like to come to the Isle with me for Christmas?” 

Dan couldn’t help his heart rate from picking up, unsure of what to say as Phil searched his eyes. 

“I leave on the twenty-first,” Phil added, when Dan just kind of _stared_ at him, trying to wrap his brain around the very idea. “It’s a quick flight, cheap too, but I’ll pay,” he started to chatter, his wide eyes never leaving Dan’s face. Dan tried to listen through the alarm bells that were screaming in his ears, but it was proving difficult. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all, if you’re worrying about that...my parents have been asking if you would be joining me since like,” Phil chuckled, “the middle of November…It’ll just be them and my brother and Cornelia, you wouldn’t be like, thrown into the deep end of extended family...if that’s what you’re worried about -” 

“Phil, Phil,” Dan finally spoke up, cutting him off from his babbling. “Can we walk?” he asked, turning towards the path along the river and offering out a hand. He knew walking would settle his brain, at least, he _hoped_ it would this time. It was so tangled up in conflict, the sirens going off versus a very loud part of his heart that was just yelling “ _yes yes yes”_ over and over again. 

Phil’s brows scrunched as he looked at Dan’s hand, and he moved to start walking with Dan before he could even think of reaching out to smooth a finger between them. Dan went to move his hand to his pocket when Phil didn’t take it, but Phil just made a whining noise in his throat, finally clasping their hands together. He pulled Dan closer by the hand, tugging and sliding both of their hands into Phil’s coat pocket. Phil hummed, content, and Dan huffed, pressing his shoulder impossibly closer into Phil’s. 

Dan’s head did begin to quiet as they walked along the river, and after a few minutes he knew his answer. Well, _it got the alarm bells to quiet at least._

“Don’t take this as me rejecting you,” Dan finally spoke up. “Well, like, I am, but not, like…” he squeezed Phil’s hand in his, “clearly I want to be with you, next to you...like all the time.” He gestured between them, to how their sides were basically glued together. 

Dan took a breath, trying to get his brain and mouth on the same page. “I don’t think I’m ready...for all that.” He saw Phil nod once out of the corner of his eye, “I really enjoyed tonight, truly, I haven’t been here during this time of year in like...six years. You have no idea how impossible it would have seemed to me if you told me a month ago I would be _having fun_ at a _Christmas market_ ,” Dan scrunched up his nose, but laughed with the sentiment. Phil huffed out a laugh beside him, squeezing his hand in his. 

“I think it would be too much for me still,” Dan said in a quieter voice, the way his heart felt conflicting with the words coming out of his mouth, “don’t think I’m ready.” 

Phil stopped them and they leaned against the fencing that separated them from the Thames. “Okay,” he leaned his head on Dan’s shoulder as they both looked out at the river. There was no disappointment or upset in his voice, Dan noted, it just sounded neutral and casual. Accepting and not pushing any further, no guilt attached. 

“I’ll bring a tin of Kath’s mince pies home to you,” Phil added, after a few moments of contemplative silence. 

_Home to you,_ Dan’s brain repeated. A smile pulled onto his face and he let his head tilt, ever so slightly, to rest against Phil’s. They stood like that for a while, the hustle and bustle of London fading around them. 

“Hey, do you think they let tall giants on the carousel?” Dan pondered aloud, when they had finally decided to leave their spot by the river to start heading back to their respective apartments. Phil turned his head to watch the horses bob up and down as they went around in a circle. 

“Dunno,” Phil squeezed Dan’s hand and then let it go to run off towards the ride, “But few people can say no to this face!” he called after him, only stopping to shoot a smug smile back at Dan, holding his own chin up in his hand. 

Dan snorted and shook his head, although he knew it was probably true, before chasing after Phil. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dnp's holiday card picture this year gave this chapter its rights


	19. Chapter 19

“You okay?” Dan paused the game and shifted his body on the couch so he was sat criss-cross facing Phil. 

“Mhm,” Phil hummed, but his leg continued to bounce up and down, shaking the couch, and his eyes were slightly glazed over, still staring at the paused screen. 

Dan sighed and scooted himself forward, pressing his folded knees up against Phil’s bouncing leg. Phil finally broke his gaze from the television, looking down at their legs and pausing his movements. He lifted his hand to bite at the skin of his thumb as he looked up to Dan’s face. 

Concerned eyes met anxious ones, Phil dropped his hand and sighed. 

“I guess I’m just full of nervous energy today,” Phil explained, looking back down and picking a piece of fuzz out of the rip in Dan’s jeans. “Dunno why, woke up this morning feeling uneasy.” He looked back up to Dan, “We can keep playing, though, really, I’m fine.” 

Dan shook his head and took the controller from Phil’s hand, leaning forward to put both of them on the coffee table. “You’ve come in dead last the past six rounds, and I started going easy on you ten minutes ago.” 

Phil started to protest but Dan just shushed him, “There’s no point in playing if you’re not having fun.” He patted Phil’s knee, “Come on,” he pushed himself up off the couch, “let’s go for a walk.”

“It’s freezing outside!” Phil protested, but took Dan’s hands anyways, letting him pull him up as well. 

“We have coats.” Dan said matter-of-factly and steered Phil out of the lounge and down the stairs. “Whenever I have pent up energy, I either pace my flat or go out and walk it off,” Dan explained as he opened Phil’s coat closet and grabbed their jackets, “It helps, more so the exercise from walking than the pacing, it gets that energy out and clears my head.” He held Phil’s jacket out, quirking a brow until Phil smirked and turned around with his arms out, so Dan could pull it on for him. “I don’t know if it will help ease your mind, but it’s worth a try, right?” 

Phil turned back around and watched Dan with a fond look on his face, humoring him and letting him zip his coat up for him as well. “You’re probably right.” 

Dan grinned from ear to ear at Phil’s admission, “Oh, say that again, that’s so sexy.” 

Phil shoved at Dan’s shoulder, muttering a _“Shut up”,_ and laughter filled the hallway. Dan pulled on his parka and patted his pockets. 

“Ugh, I didn’t bring gloves,” he groaned. 

“Budge over, I have spares,” Phil bumped his shoulder against Dan so he could access the closet. Dan moved easily, choosing to step behind Phil and wrap his arms around his waist, chin propped on his shoulder, as Phil pulled a box down from the closet shelf and dug through it. 

“Here,” Phil held a plain, black pair of knitted gloves over his left shoulder, whacking Dan in the face with it. 

Dan flinched back, “Phiiiil,” he whined, but he removed his grip on Phil to take the gloves from him and tug them on. Phil had on a bright purple pair of gloves when he turned back around, box still in his hands. 

“Pick a hat, any hat,” he instructed, sounding like a sleazy, sleight of hand magician. Dan looked down to see an array of knitted bobble hats in various colors. He sifted through the beanies and pouted up at Phil once he looked through them all. 

“No black?” 

“Dan, it’s freezing outside, please just pick a hat.” Phil rolled his eyes. 

“But none of them fit my aesthetic,” Dan whined, frowning down at all the colors. 

“If you don’t pick one,” Phil dug his hand in the box and pulled out a red and white beanie that resembled a santa hat, “I’ll make you wear this one.” He dangled it in front of Dan’s pouting face. “Come on Dan, I’m not going to go on a walk with you for you to just get frostbite or sick.” 

“Fine,” Dan huffed. He reluctantly plucked out a purple and grey hat, the same color as Phil’s gloves, and shoved it onto his head - looking not unlike a child just punished by their mum. Phil put the red and white one on his head and tucked the box back into the closet, shutting the door. Meanwhile, Dan was grumbling under his breath about “ _ruined aesthetics”_ and _“messed up hair”_ as he pulled on his shoes. 

“Dan, you’re-” Phil started, but Dan immediately cut him off. 

“I’m being a brat, I _know_.” 

“You _are_ a brat.” Phil stuck his tongue out at him. 

“And you’re a good boyfriend who cares too much,” Dan kicked his booted foot against Phil’s vans. 

“Mmn”, Phil grabbed his keys off the hook by the door and opened the door, gesturing for Dan to lead the way, “say that again, that’s so sexy.” His voice was more posh sounding, Dan guesses it was in an attempt to mimic his own accent. 

“Shut up.” Dan ran down the stairs, a giggling Phil chasing him. 

“ _Shut up,”_ Phil mocked. 

“I hate you.” 

“I hate you, too,” Phil held a gloved hand out for Dan to take once they were out the door. Dan looked Phil in the eye before taking it, the small smile and slight lift of a brow he was given in return being all he needed to interlock their fingers. 

They walked in silence as Dan lead them towards the park that was near Phil’s apartment. Well, maybe not in silence, they weren’t speaking, but Dan could tell Phil’s head was the opposite of silent. He could tell by the way Phil kept tapping his fingers against Dan’s knuckles, a constant _tap tap tap_ as they walked. It wasn’t a quick reassurance, or a silent answer to a question, or even a reminder for Dan to pay attention. He could tell it wasn’t their usual unspoken language, but an extension of Phil’s shaking leg during MarioKart. He let Phil do it though, he didn’t squeeze his hand or tap back to stop him, he didn’t want to interrupt whatever Phil was working through in his brain. 

It continued much of the same as they entered the park, brick and concrete turning into leafless trees and browning grass. The silence between them only breaking every so often, when Phil would pause his tapping to squeeze Dan’s hand and point in the direction of a squirrel or dog up ahead. _“Squirrel”_ and _“Dog”_ being the only words that left his lips as they walked.

“Goose,” Dan squeezed Phil’s hand for the first time since they left Phil’s house, speaking up after a good ten minutes or so of silence. Phil shot his head around like a meerkat, and Dan laughed, pointing in the direction of a flock of geese up ahead on their left. 

“Oh!” Phil let out a soft chuckle as he spotted them. They kept walking. 

Fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes later, Dan didn’t realize that Phil had stopped tapping at his knuckles until he was pulling Dan back in the direction of the park’s entrance. 

“I’m a really anxious person sometimes. You’ve probably noticed that by now,” Phil said, looking straight forward at the street ahead of them. This time, Phil was leading the way back home. “I always have been. Mum always says I think too much,” he went on, Dan letting him talk. “She never meant it in a bad way, she would always be reassuring me that when people called me _weird_ , they just didn’t realize I had an overly creative but overly cautious brain. But I didn’t like being the weird kid.”

Phil looked over at Dan with a small smile, who was already watching his face intently, “She told me _different_ was special. That trying to be normal is what makes people sad.” He looked back at the street. 

Dan hummed, he agreed with Phil’s mum. Phil wasn’t normal, he was a little weird. But Phil wasn’t special _despite_ that, he was special _because_ of it. 

“As I got older, it presented itself in less weird childhood quirks and more overworking myself and stressing about the smallest things, until my brain was such a tangled mess it started to hurt the rest of my body.” Phil tapped at Dan’s knuckles, just twice, and Dan looked to where he was pointing with his other hand. A small, fat dachshund was trotting along with their owner across the street. They both cooed at it. 

“I was working a different job before John Lewis,” Phil picked back up once the dog passed by. “A _normal_ job, if you will.” Phil laughed, but it sounded more like a sigh. “It was a real, adult job in post production at the BBC.” Dan couldn’t stop his slight intake in breath, lips parting in surprise. 

“I was basically working the job of what should have been four people,” Phil explained, Dan could hear the distaste in his voice, “but I just let them overwork me, because it was a _real job_ that paid well...I was _using_ my degree, and I was _lucky_ to have it.” Phil scrunched up his nose. He sounded more like he was quoting someone else than speaking in his own voice.

Dan so desperately wanted to say something, assure Phil that no one should ever have to feel obligated to stay in a toxic environment under the guise of being “lucky” to have it. But he didn’t, he let Phil speak. 

“I quit two years ago, after I had fainted in the break room.” Phil turned them down his street, “They had to take me to A&E that time. It was the third time I had passed out from stress and exhaustion...first time at work, though...first time I hit my head hard enough that I didn’t immediately come to. I had been getting stress migraines, like, every week for a year before that happened.” Phil sighed, “In my quest to be a normal person with a normal job I ended up hurting myself. I never asked for help, because that wasn’t what normal people did. Especially not at that company.”

“Asking for help is normal,” Dan finally spoke up, in a small voice. 

Phil squeezed his hand, “It took me, like, thirty years to realize that.” He laughed. It didn’t ring as sweetly as the laugh Dan had come to know and love.

“Anyways,” Phil continued, and he pulled his keys out of his pocket as they approached his apartment building, “I took two months off of working after that, thankful for my savings and already having this place, and tried to work on myself. It was weird putting myself first, it’s still hard for me to do. But it was good.” He unlocked the front door and they made their way up the two flights of stairs to Phil’s flat.

“A friend had actually made a joke about how much I would love to be the 'Santa’s Little Helper' gift wrapper one day when we were in John Lewis right before they opened the Christmas Shop for the season,” Phil chuckled. “I don’t know if it was because he knew I loved Christmas and wrapping presents, or if it was just the longing look on my face as we passed the closed up shop. I’ve always been keen for it to open sooner than it does.” Phil’s laugh felt lighter now.

“So you applied,” Dan responded as Phil unlocked the door and pushed it open. 

“Mhm,” Phil nodded his head and Dan followed him through the door. 

“It was only a seasonal thing, but I loved it,” Phil explained as they shed their shoes and layers. He stepped into Dan’s space and reached for his zipper, unzipping his coat for him. “It made me happy. Being surrounded by Christmas, getting to have fun with the kids that came in, and I got to be creative in all the different outfits and all the different ways to wrap things. I decided to stay with the company after that Christmas, just so I could work Christmas again.” Phil hung their coats back in the closet. “I still get anxious about it not being enough, though. Like today, it just crept up on me. It’s not a normal job. It’s not an adult job, it’s a weird job. I’m a weird guy.” 

“You are a weird guy,” Dan bumped his shoulder against Phil’s. “But that’s your job and you’re an adult, so it is an adult job...as much as I tease you about it,” he added, a bit of guilt in his voice. 

“And I tease you about hating Christmas even though…” Phil shrugged not finishing his sentence when Dan hummed. “We’re never malicious towards each other about it, just bants right?” he asked, seriously. 

Dan smiled, “Just bants. I would tell you otherwise.” 

Phil grabbed his hand, skin to skin now that their gloves were off, “Me too.” 

Dan pulled Phil to his chest by the hand, grabbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Phil hummed and pressed his forehead against Dan’s. The kiss Dan placed on his mouth was short and sweet, but it said the words Dan could not. 

When they parted, and finally made their way into Phil’s flat from the entrance hallway, Dan squeezed Phil’s hand, “So...Mario Kart rematch? You deserve a redemption arc.” 

Later, after a Mario Kart tournament (only won by Phil after an all or nothing wager on the last race) and with their bellies full of Chinese takeaway, Phil was walking Dan back down the stairs to the cab he had called him to take him home. 

“Thank you,” Phil had whispered against Dan’s lips. 

Dan kissed him again, then responded, “For what?” Not being able to help himself, he punctuated his question with another kiss. Phil giggled against his lips. 

“For the walk,” he leaned up to press a kiss to Dan’s nose, “You were right, it helped.”

“God, I love it when you stroke my ego,” Dan joked, and Phil hummed a _“Shut up”_ to his mouth. 

“Thanks for listening, too, for letting me talk.” Phil pulled away to give Dan a real hug. 

Dan swayed them a bit as he hugged back, “That’s what we’re here for, right? You listen to my bullshit, I listen to yours…” he said into Phil’s hair. 

“Mutually beneficial,” Phil hummed back. Dan laughed. 

“Yeah, something like that.” He gave Phil one last squeeze and they parted. “Goodnight, Phil.” 

“You get home safe,” Phil pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. Dan blushed, like he always does around Phil. 

“I’ll text you,” Dan assured, turning the handle of the door and stepping out into the frigid December air. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Phil called after him as Dan walked up to the waiting taxi. Dan turned after opening the car door, looking back at Phil leaning against his building’s doorframe. He held his palm up to his mouth and kissed it, pulling it away to blow it towards Phil. Phil laughed, eyes crinkling, and held up a hand to catch it, pressing his closed fist to his heart. 


	20. Chapter 20

Dan was stood at the stove, stirring his winter squash soup, humming along with Matt Bellamy when the buzzer rang through his flat. _Weird_ , it was the middle of the afternoon and to his knowledge he wasn’t expecting any packages. He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember if he _did_ have a delivery, and turned the knob on the stove off so his soup wouldn’t bubble over. He made the few steps over to his intercom and pressed the speaker button. 

“Yes, who is it?” 

“Delivery for Daniel Howell,” a booming voice answered him. 

“Oh, okay,” Dan hummed curiously, “I’ll be down in a minute!” 

Before Dan could even take a step back or move his finger off the button the voice was booming through the speaker again, “It’s best if I come up.” 

Dan furrowed his brows, _huh okay,_ well if he was dumb enough to let a murderer up to his flat, maybe it would be his time to go. “Okay thank you,” he said in response, while pressing the door button. Guess Dan was not saying fuck politeness today. Hopefully this was just something he ordered on Amazon and forgot about again. He padded over to his speaker on the counter and turned his music down a bit, then waited by the door. 

Dan was leaning against his door frame when he heard the lift ding from down the hall. He looked up to see... _what_... _what is that?_ Dan rubbed at his eyes and blinked, as if that would clear some sort of haze and reveal he wasn’t actually seeing what he thought he was. But _nope_ , it was clear as day. There was an incredibly buff, blonde man walking towards his door. 

But that wasn’t all. Of course that wasn’t all. 

There was an incredibly buff, blonde man in a bright red tartan kilt, holding a _fucking Christmas tree_ over his shoulder, walking towards his door. 

Dan could kill a man. Not this man, no, he would be writing one Philip Lester’s name into his Death Note later. Dan had half a mind to retreat back into his flat and slam the door shut, but he didn’t want to be a dick to this man (who was currently giving Dan the biggest, whitest toothy smile as he approached him) and besides, he felt a bit different now. He wasn’t jumping up and down at the idea of having a _Christmas_ tree in his home, but he also didn’t hate the idea as much anymore. He actually...he actually thinks he might like it. _God,_ Phil had made him go way too soft. 

“Where do you want her, mate?” The large blonde man asked Dan once he stepped aside to let him through his door. He patted at the tree with the question, Dan just watched with disdain as needles dropped from the tree and onto his floor. Yeah, he was going to kill Phil. 

Dan looked around his flat. There was really no place for a tree anywhere, even if the tree over Hunky Man’s shoulder only looked to be a few feet tall. “Uh,” Dan ran a hand through his hair and then walked over to his dining table, picking up his little potted orchid that really shouldn’t have still been alive this late into December. “On here is fine,” he instructed, gesturing towards the table. 

Thor’s distant cousin lumbered over and gently placed the small tree on Dan’s table, far too gently for a man with arms three times the size of Dan’s. He bent over to tighten the tree in its stand and Dan let his eyes wander down his body. _Jesus, those are some toned legs_. Sure, they were under a ridiculous kilt and had knitted green socks pulled up to the knee, but objectively...they were nice legs. When he realized what he was doing, Dan shook his head at himself and pulled his eyes away. He couldn’t believe Phil’s nonsense. 

“We’re all set here,” blonde Jason Momoa smiled at him, “You have yourself a very merry Christmas!” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ll...do that,” Dan awkwardly replied as he saw him to the door, “you too.” 

The door was barely even shut behind him before Dan was darting over to where his phone was on the kitchen counter. An aggressive finger jabbed at Phil’s name in his recent calls. 

“You are a dead man, Lester!” Dan yelled into his phone when Phil was only on the first syllable of ‘hello’. His voice was raised, some annoyance was there, but there was no anger in his tone. 

Phil laughed on the other line. 

“This is _not_ funny!” Dan whined. 

“You love it,” Phil teased, giggles ever present in his voice. Dan wouldn’t go as far as that...but he didn’t entirely _hate_ it. He wouldn’t let Phil know that though. He was far too smug to begin with, Dan didn’t need his head to get any bigger.

“I hate you,” Dan let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. He looked over at the tree sat on his table, completely imposing in on his flat. It was so out of place it was comical. “Is there some sort of union you’re a part of for weirdos like you that _willingly_ put on embarrassing outfits for work?”

“No. But there should be, I’d make a lot of new friends!” Phil quipped back, Dan rolled his eyes to himself. “Was he hot? Tell me everything.” 

Dan sighed again, “Of _course_ he was hot, Phil. What even is this? Where did you find that guy?” 

“What did he look like?” Phil completely ignored Dan’s questions. He could _hear_ the smirk on Phil’s face. 

Dan rolled his eyes, “Totally your type. A real Chris Hemsworth looking guy, you really missed out,” Dan chuckled as he heard Phil gasp over the line. Dan let out a fake moan, “And those legs, Phil. If I wasn’t on the naughty list before, _I am now_.” 

“Shut up!” Phil laughed and Dan couldn’t help but laugh with him. 

“It’s your fault! You’re the one who sent a greek god to my house with a Christmas tree over his shoulder...which, Phil, what the hell am I supposed to do with this thing? I don’t have decorations for it or anything, it barely even _fits_ on my table,” Dan grimaced at the tree. 

“I might have a few more tricks up my sleeve,” Phil said as Dan’s buzzer jump-scared him, “let me up!” he added and Dan rolled his eyes. 

“I am going to _kill_ you,” Dan responded, but stalked over to his intercom and pressed the button to let Phil in. 

“That’s an interesting way to pronounce kiss, what language is th-” Dan hung up the phone before Phil could finish his sentence. He smiled, shaking his head, _God,_ he loved his boyfriend. Oh, _that’s new._

Or was it? 

Dan chose to file that thought away, deep in the filing cabinet in his brain, before he could really start to think about it. He shook his head, in an attempt to clear his mind, and opened his door. This time, as he leaned against the door frame, he knew who would be coming out of the lift and towards him. 

Sure enough, a few seconds later the lift dinged and Phil was coming down the hall. He was wearing his glasses again, and Dan was smart enough to know it was probably intentional. Phil knew how much Dan liked how he looked in his glasses, he knew how to play dirty. Dan noted that Phil also had on his usual pair of black jeans, paired with a baby blue sweater that had white dots all over it - like snow. But most notably, Phil was carrying a large cardboard box. 

“Hi!” Phil smiled and kissed Dan around the box in his arms. He barely even stopped moving to do so, walking straight into Dan’s flat after pulling away. “Oh! It smells good in here, did you get a new candle?” Phil went right to Dan’s bed, dropping the box on it, and inspecting the windowsill for a lit candle. 

“No, I was making soup. I made enough for leftovers if you want some,” Dan replied in a soft voice. Phil turned away from the candles and grinned at Dan, nodding his head up and down. Dan smiled at the dog wearing a winter scarf in the middle of Phil’s sweater. 

Dan shook his head, “I’m still mad at you though.” His voice was less soft now, more reprimanding, but Dan didn’t think he was actually mad. 

Phil frowned and looked over towards the small tree on the table, “Do you really hate it? I can take all this back with me, no problem.” Dan could tell by his tone that he was serious, biting his lip as he looked Dan in the eye. 

“I don’t hate it,” Dan walked over to where Phil was sitting on the edge of his bed and leaned down, steadying himself by his hands on Phil’s thighs, “I’m not _really_ upset with you.” He emphasized his words with a gentle kiss on Phil’s forehead. 

Phil tilted his head up to look at Dan. “Are you sure?” he asked, eyes searching Dan’s face for the answer. “I know you said you couldn’t come to my parent’s with me for Christmas, and I understand, really. I’d love to have you there, but whatever you need to do for yourself is what I want. I just…” Phil looked behind Dan at the tree, then back at Dan, “I kept thinking about how you look at my flat now...and the look in your eyes when I took you to see the Christmas lights. And then I kept thinking about how you would be here all by yourself, and I just...I just wanted to give you a piece of my heart to keep you company.”

Dan couldn’t trust the feeling in his chest while looking Phil directly in the eye at the same time, so he gave Phil’s thighs a quick squeeze before letting go and plopping himself down next to him. 

“I brought some lights and tinsel for it. And some of my baubles,” Phil grabbed the box that was sat on the bed and pulled it to his lap. Dan turned his head to watch as Phil opened it. “I picked up some black tinsel at work,” Phil dug through the box and pulled out a package to show Dan. “Look,” he handed it to him and Dan turned the clear plastic around in his hands, “It looks like that black rainbow nail polish you wear sometimes!” 

The tinsel in the package glittered and reflected rainbows as Dan held it up to the sunlight. He smiled at Phil, “It does.” He couldn’t compare now, as he currently had a stark matte black on his fingers, but it did look identical to his favorite holographic black. 

The nervous look on Phil’s face softened a bit. He quickly turned back to the box and pulled out a little white polar bear ornament. “I sorted through all my baubles, you know I have so many,” Dan nodded, he was well aware, “and well, I picked out all the ones that made me think of you. They’re mostly the silver and white and gold ones,” he held the polar bear out to Dan and he put down the packet of tinsel to take it. “I think it’ll make the tree match your flat more, I hope so, at least.” 

Dan looked at the polar bear in his hand. He stroked at it’s flocked fur. 

Phil was babbling on as Dan spaced out looking at the bear, “Of course if you don’t like any of these, I can take you to work and get you whatever decorations and baubles you’d like…”

Dan interrupted him, “These are all yours?” he asked in a small voice, meeting Phil’s eyes again. 

“Y-yeah.” Phil bit at his bottom lip. 

Dan looked at the polar bear again and then leaned into Phil’s space to peer into the box. He didn’t know how to feel. Well, more like he was _feeling_ , he was feeling a whole hell of a lot, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it. The entire box was full of various white, silver, gold, and even a few black ornaments. Anyone who knew Dan and looked into that box would say “ _that’s Christmas if Christmas was Dan’s aesthetic.”_ Even though they fit perfectly into the color scheme of Dan’s life, they were indistinguishably Phil’s. They were cute and whimsical, a lot of little animals, but also nerdy, with some little gaming controllers and a few stormtroopers and Darth Vader baubles. He gently picked up a few of the decorations and admired them. Phil didn’t say anything as he did so, he just watched Dan with a fond look on his face. 

“Is making me cry like...your kink or something?” Dan finally spoke up with a wet laugh. He wiped at his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding a little penguin ornament. “Seriously this is too much, you’re too good to me.” 

Phil shushed Dan and put the box on the floor so he could wrap his arms around him. “I don’t want to make you cry, I just want to make you happy. ‘Cause you make me happy.” Phil pressed a kiss into Dan’s messy mop of curls. 

“You make me so fucking happy,” Dan huffed and turned in Phil’s arms so he could kiss him. “Who even are you?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” Phil bumped his forehead into Dan’s. “I’m so lucky you love to spend too much money on ugly designer things,” he added with a laugh. 

“Hey! You like that watch!” Dan pulled away from Phil, genuinely offended. 

Phil just giggled, “Yeah...I like it because it brought me you.”

Dan’s annoyance melted and he squeezed at Phil’s knee. “I can’t believe you think it’s ugly,” he said with a smile, but he shook his head. He leaned back against Phil’s shoulder and picked up the penguin he had dropped in his lap. 

“So do you want to help me decorate this tree?” Dan asked, holding the penguin up to Phil. 

Phil beamed and nodded. He leaned down to grab the little polar bear off the top of the box, and held it up to Dan’s penguin. It was like he was making them kiss. 

“I think they’re in love,” he whispered, like it was a secret. 

“I think they are.” 

Before they set out to decorate Dan’s new tree, Dan reheated the soup he was making before he was interrupted, and shared it with Phil. They bickered and told each other about their days - even though it was only late afternoon and neither of them had been up to much more than work - and even gossiped about the hunky kilted tree delivery man. Who Phil _had_ actually seen, because he was waiting outside of Dan’s flat the whole time. 

“Forget the tree, I wanted to see if he could throw _me_ over his shoulder _.”_

_“Shut up Phil!”_

Phil had convinced Dan to let him connect his phone to his speaker, allowing him one - and only one - chance at showing Dan that “Festive Lester’s Ultimate Christmas Playlist” would convert even the grinchiest of all people. 

Phil, of course, was right and that’s why him and Dan were both scream-singing along with Mariah Carey as Dan made them tea. 

“YOUUUU BABY!” they yelled into each other’s faces, the kettle beeping was practically inaudible over them and the music. They burst into laughter, tears threatening to leave the corners of their eyes from how hysterical they were, when the song ended and changed to something more calm and instrumental. 

Dan clutched at Phil’s shoulders, “I’m literally going to get kicked out of this flat if we get another noise complaint.” He picked up the kettle as Phil went for the mug cabinet, working together like a well oiled machine despite the size of Dan’s kitchen. 

“Oh!” Phil chirped from the other side of the cabinet door, “What’s this?” 

Dan knew what Phil had found even before he stepped away from the cabinet with the mug in his hand. In his hand was a Buffy mug that Dan had recently bought, it was bright red and yellow with the Sunnydale High logo on it. It made Dan think of Phil, and his constant teasing about Dan’s _‘boring black mugs’,_ when it had popped up on a targeted ad after he and Phil spent a night in bed watching Buffy on Dan’s laptop. That would probably be the only time Dan was grateful for the government agent hiding inside of his electronics, collecting all his data for marketing purposes. 

“I got it for you,” Dan took the mug from Phil and put it on the counter, dropping in the tea bag and pouring water over it. “Well I actually got it for me, but it’s for you...for here.” He looked over at Phil sheepishly. 

Phil smiled, “Because I always make fun of your boring mugs?” taking the words right out of Dan’s mouth. Dan nodded. Phil’s head disappeared behind the cabinet door again, then reappeared with one of Dan’s mugs. He placed the black mug next to the colorful one, _not_ shutting the cabinet door in the process, and dropped the other tea bag into it. Phil hooked his chin over Dan’s shoulder when Dan ushered him back so he could pour water into the mug. He kissed the side of Dan’s neck, just one soft and gentle peck, and Dan - for some reason they still didn’t quite understand - knew exactly what he was saying without words. 

They decorated the tree into the night. Not because it was a long task - it was the opposite really, with it only being a little four foot tree - but because they kept having to pause for giggle fits, or a dramatic belting of Christmas lyrics, and even a few times where Phil had pulled Dan into clumsy slow dances across the little floor space of Dan’s flat. As they decorated, Phil told Dan all the stories of when or where he got specific baubles. About half of them were impulse purchases at work, and the other half were mostly gifts from Phil’s parents, brother, and other family members, because they knew how much Phil loved Christmas. 

Dan tried not to cry, multiple times, and surprisingly held up. Phil was just so smiley and happy, and Dan felt genuinely happy too. The only tears that found themselves falling were from laughter and pure happiness. Dan hadn’t felt this much happiness and joy decorating for Christmas before, he thinks it only rivaled how he felt as a small child, being lifted up high to put the angel on top of the tree. That was his favorite thing to do every year. He hadn’t felt such a strong feeling of safety and belonging like this in a long, long time. He didn’t think he was missing it, before he met Phil, but now that it was here he never wanted to let go. 

“Will you do the honor?” Phil asked, holding a small black star with a metal spiral attached to the bottom of it out to Dan. 

Dan looked at Phil, searching his face as if it would tell him how exactly had Phil Lester been thrown into his life, and took the star from him. He didn’t need to be picked up to reach the top of the tree, he hadn’t had to since he was a pre-teen, but he felt a similar feeling of weightlessness as he turned to the tree and fastened the star onto the top branch. 

Dan often referred to his flat as “home”. It _was_ his house, it had been for the past eight years. But as Dan turned back around to Phil - showcasing the finished tree with a wide smile on his face - and Phil was holding his phone up, focused on him and the tree, Dan _felt_ like he was _home_ for the first time in a long time. 


	21. Chapter 21

The evening news droned on as Dan tuned in and out of paying attention to it. He wasn’t really sure why he would always put it on when his twitter feed usually gave him a quicker, more accurate telling of current events - he guesses it had just become force of habit. And surprisingly, even though the majority of it made him worry for the world, it was good background chatter to fill his empty apartment when he didn’t want to get sucked into an actual show or movie. Like now, as he sat on his bed in cozy loungewear, laptop open with twenty different tabs up, researching like he never had before. 

He had been feeling more than just a bit in over his head the past week, as he was constantly glued to his computer, sorting out the logistics of his collaboration with the small jewelry company - he thinks he probably has sent over a hundred emails in the past four days alone. He had never done anything like this before, _obviously,_ and he was quickly overwhelmed with the amount of admin and decision making that went into it. But he had gotten through the stressful work week, ending on a high note earlier that day with another in person meeting with the two co-founders of the company. The meeting was reassuring, to say the least, and Dan had returned home with a smile on his face and a box full of mock-ups and samples. 

Actual _tangible_ objects Dan could hold, derived from his very own designs. _Is this how parents feel when they look at their children?_ He laughed at himself with the thought, looking over at the spread of tiny metal shapes and dainty silver bracelets that he had set out on the bed next to him. He felt much more confident as he looked at them, all the hard work and worrying _actually_ amounted to something. 

And now, even though they weren’t anywhere near done with this project, Dan wanted more. He had a taste of things beyond photographing himself in other people’s pieces and he liked it, it ignited a passion inside him that he didn’t know was there. It’s not like he didn’t like or enjoy what he was doing currently, he loved it, he just wanted more after doing the same things and keeping it as safe as he could for an _Instagram influencer._ He’s dipped his toe into that _more_ and now he was ready to do a running start jump into the deep end. So that was why he was sitting in bed, with the evening news on in the background, researching everything there was to know about how online creators had successfully created their own, tangible brand. 

He knew it was a pipe dream, an idea that wouldn’t see the light of day for a long time - considering this small jewelry collection that was being made by an already established company wouldn’t even be coming out until well after the new year - but Dan let himself daydream. Dreams of one day wearing his own _Daniel Howell Apparel._ It wasn’t even really about _selling_ something to consumers, or his followers, he wanted it for _himself,_ first and foremost. The thought made his entire being fill with electricity - passion, excitement, and a lot of fear coursing through his veins. And what did Dan do when those types of feelings were overwhelming him? Google deep dives and researching with a fervor similar to a student who had twenty minutes to finish a ten page research paper. _Not like Dan had any first-hand experience with something like that...not at all._

He was pulled out of his deep focus - typing notes as he dissected an article about sustainably producing clothing in today’s fast fashion world - by his flat’s buzzer. He sucked in a breath, heart racing as the sound genuinely gave him a fright. 

It was six o’clock on a Friday night, _what could that possibly be?_

Dan begrudgingly pulled himself out of bed, making the short distance over to his intercom. It was probably just someone pressing the wrong button, he thought to himself as he jammed his own finger on the intercom and mumbled out a less than enthusiastic “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me, let me in,” Phil’s voice came out of the speaker. Dan smiled and buzzed him in. Of course it was Phil. He wasn’t expecting him, but then again, how many times had they popped in on each other unannounced in the almost two months they’ve known each other? Too many times to count. Dan shook his head at the floor and smiled to himself before opening the door for Phil.

“I really need to get you a key,” Dan huffed out a laugh when he was met with Phil standing before him. 

“Hey you,” Phil mumbled against Dan’s lips as Dan pulled him into his flat, kissing the greeting right off his mouth. 

“Hi,” Dan wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, pressing his warm hands against Phil’s cold neck. Phil hummed at the contact, stepping closer into Dan’s space, until they were pressed together from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” 

“Do I need an excuse for wanting to hang out with my favorite person?” Phil squeezed his arms around Dan’s waist, stealing the warmth from Dan’s body. Dan couldn’t even be mad about it. 

“I’m your favorite person?” 

Phil snorted, “Don’t let it get to your head.” 

“Too late,” Dan sung with a smug smile, pulling away only to press a kiss to Phil’s cold nose. “Please tell me you didn’t walk here, it’s too cold out for that.” 

Phil looked down at their feet in an attempt to hide the guilty look on his face, “Only from the tube station.” 

“Phiiil,” Dan reached his hands up to press them against Phil’s cheeks. Phil leaned into the touch, closing his eyes as Dan’s hands warmed his rosy cheeks. They stood like that for a while, Dan just rolling his eyes at his idiot boyfriend and Phil making faces back at him. 

“Sorry, but can you blame me?” Phil released his grip on Dan's waist to place his hands over Dan’s, pulling them off of his face. “I just finished packing and I wanted to see you before I leave tomorrow! And the tube’s faster with all the holiday travel going on right now. Plus, I come bearing gifts!” Phil pulled away entirely to slide the reusable tote bag off his shoulder, and Dan made grabby hands towards it, knowing if Phil had brought him something and wasn’t holding coffee cups in his hands, that meant the only other possibility had to be food. 

“Ooo!” Dan’s face lit up, impossibly brighter from the surprise, as he pulled a box of mince pies out of the bag. 

“I don’t think we’ve ranked M&S’s officially on the codex yet,” Phil said as he finally started to shed his layers, kicking his shoes off and stepping further into the room to place them on the empty spot on Dan’s shoe rack - a spot that had mysteriously, _okay maybe not mysteriously,_ started being left open for a pair of Phil’s shoes when they started dating. 

“We have not,” Dan confirmed, and stepped into the kitchen with the box of little pies. As he cranked up the oven and popped the pies in to be warmed, Phil padded in behind him and began to open Dan’s cabinets. Even if Dan’s life depended on it, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint any specific moment where the two of them switched into this level of comfort with each other and in each other’s homes. It always had just kind of _been there_ , which probably should have raised a brow, but neither of them really questioned it or thought it was odd. It just felt like them. 

Once the pies were in, Dan stepped back, hopping up on the breakfast bar counter to watch Phil buzz about his kitchen. There was no music playing in his flat, just the news quietly chattering from the TV, but Phil hummed to himself anyways. Dan didn’t even hate that he recognized it as “Merry Christmas Everybody”. Phil probably didn’t even realize he was doing it - in true, typical Phil fashion. Three cabinet doors were open and Dan rolled his eyes to himself. He would close them after Phil was done, knowing Phil, he would just open them again if Dan did it now. Phil had filled and clicked on Dan’s kettle, one of Dan’s black mugs and the Buffy mug now sat on the counter as Phil stuck his hand into Dan’s glass container full of tea bags. He dropped one into each mug and continued to hum as he poured the boiling water over them, opening yet another cabinet door to grab the container of sugar that Dan now kept in stock in his kitchen. If it was only there because Dan knew Phil preferred a disgusting amount of sugar in his coffees and teas, well _that’s just none of your business._

Dan moved from his watchtower to get a plate out of an already open cabinet, shutting the door after himself, and pulled the pies out of the oven. They both hummed in unison as the smell of heated mince pies filled the room the second the oven door was open. Phil bumped his hip against Dan’s, still singing softly to himself, and Dan tapped him right back. Phil handed him his mug of tea and Dan made it a point to dramatically shut the remaining open cabinet doors when he caught Phil’s eye. 

“Shut up!” Phil had a smug look on his face before he darted out of the kitchen with his own mug, making a beeline for Dan’s bed.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dan cheekily called after him, grabbing the plate of pies and following suit, “Hey, wait, be careful,” he warned when he noticed Phil was about to plop down in his bed, “I have a bunch of samples floating around on my duvet, you’re gonna get an earring post in your bum.” 

“Oh!” Phil yelped, stopping himself as he was in the middle of sitting down. He instead took the plate of mince pies from Dan, Dan setting his mug down on his dresser, so he could collect all of the little bits of silver, placing them back into the box they came from - probably where they should have stayed all along.

“Are those your earrings already?” Phil asked, excitedly, when he realized what Dan was talking about. “I want to see!” 

“Mhm, got them today,” Dan hummed, closing his laptop and shoving it to the side with the box so they could lounge on his bed and eat their pies, like a _real adult couple._

Once Dan sat down, Phil handed him the plate so he could settle down next to him. Dan sat the plate down on the bed, and then handed Phil the box once he had done a significant amount of wiggling and shuffling around, getting cozy tucked up against Phil’s side. He watched, chewing at his lip, as Phil looked through all the different pieces, holding each small earring up close to his face, inspecting them like someone inspecting a diamond or other precious stone. Phil’s mouth popped open, the tiniest amount, when he picked up one of the two thin silver bracelets. The expression quickly pulled into a wide smile as he turned his head to look at Dan. 

“This is beautiful,” he played at the bracelet’s chain with his fingertips. “They all are!” he added, “All of it is so you.” 

Dan could feel the praise warm his entire body, the pride and the way he felt looking at Phil overwhelming him. “The earrings aren’t how I want them,” he brushed off the praise in an attempt to not melt into a puddle of warm, soft Dan goo right then and there. “I think the shapes are about perfect, but I want the metal to be darker, more black,” he explained. 

He leaned further into Phil to stick his hand in the box and fish out the other bracelet, “This one too, I don’t think I want both of the bracelets to be the same silver…” he held the bracelet out to Phil, **_embrace the void_** , looking back at him as he did. “I think it would make a statement for this one to be in the blacker silver, like the earrings. But this one,” he took the other bracelet from Phil, in exchange, and held it up, “I like the classic silver of this one.” He wiped a fingerprint off the surface with the sleeve of his jumper, the words, **_have the courage to exist_** , that were engraved there shining a bit brighter. 

Without a second thought, he took Phil’s right wrist in his hand. Phil quirked a brow at him as Dan pushed the sleeve of his sweater up, but humored him and held his wrist up so Dan could clasp the silver bracelet around his wrist. “I want you to keep this,” he explained, pulling Phil’s sleeve back down and patting at his wrist for good measure. “It’s the only one in existence for now. One of a kind.” 

Somehow Phil’s expression became fonder as he looked at Dan, then back down at his wrist where the bracelet poked out from his sleeve. “Are you sure?” 

“Never been more,” he replied, confidently. “Now don’t go accidentally leaking this, we don’t announce any of this until March.” Dan gently shoved at Phil’s shoulder to match the teasing tone of his very serious request. 

“I won’t.” Phil held up a pinky and Dan wrapped his own around it, meeting Phil in the middle for a chaste kiss on the lips. “Besides,” Phil hummed as he pulled away, “it won’t be much of a challenge, your followers have no idea who I am.” 

“True, but those quotes from my captions are super recognizable,” Dan groaned at the admission, “someone even put them on _Good Reads_ ,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s the internet, some of my followers find _everything_ , just don’t like...tweet a picture of it or anything please.” 

“Okay dad,” Phil dropped his hand to pat Dan’s thigh, squeezing once before pulling it away. “I’m so proud of you,” Phil’s voice was entirely _too fond_ and he leaned away from Dan - just for a moment - to put his mug down, so he could wrap both arms around him. Dan didn’t even cringe as Phil pressed wet kisses into the side of his neck. He just giggled instead, squirming around in Phil’s arms to tackle Phil back down on the bed, resting his body flat against Phil’s as they attempted to kiss through shared giggles. 

Dan’s foot hit something as they rolled around, their small kisses and laughter now turned into something more heated. He ignored it - brain only computing the soft, breathless whining coming from Phil’s throat - until he felt his foot hit something again, followed by an audible splat on the floor. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Dan swore against Phil’s neck, reluctantly pushing himself up off of Phil so he could inspect the damage. 

Phil giggled, _the fucker_ , once Dan was off him and he could see the mince pie that had been kicked off the bed onto the floor, as well as two more that were on the duvet and _not_ the plate they were supposed to be on. “Man down!” 

They laughed and saved what was left of the mince pies. Phil tried to convince Dan that the fallen pie was still edible, attempting to stop him from throwing it in the bin, and Dan threatened to throw it at Phil’s face instead. They eventually actually got around to tasting the pies, after both the pies and their cooled teas took a spin in the microwave. Dan was convinced they were a ten, taking the top spot of the entire Dan and Phil Mince Pie Codex (trademark pending), but Phil argued they were a solid nine, insisting they weren’t as good as Kath’s homemade ones. Dan swiftly locked away the yearning his heart felt at the comment, he couldn’t be feeling like that, no. He just had a long work week, and now he would have a small, holiday free break _alone_ in his flat, with a few seasons of anime he’s been saving just for the occasion. Phil would be back home in London after Christmas, and he _would not_ daydream about him and his family in the meantime. That’s how it would be. That’s how it needed to be. 

“Can I pick your brain?” Dan said, hours later - the TV now off, mince pie crumbs cleaned off the bed. They were tucked under Dan’s duvet, both way too warm for their lack of clothes and the chill in the air from Dan’s building’s less than reliable central heating. Phil just nuzzled his head further into the crook of Dan’s neck, a muffled “ _mhm"_ somehow reaching Dan’s ears. He yawned against Dan’s neck. 

“ _God,_ you’re such a man, Phil Lester.” Dan tutted. 

Phil squeezed him tighter, “Mmm, no, I’m awake,” he hummed, unconvincingly. 

Dan rolled his eyes, “Never mind,” he affectionately ran his fingers through Phil’s messy brown hair, “go to sleep.” His racing thoughts were eased by the sheer amount of fondness he felt in his chest as he held the tired man in his arms. 

Phil made a noise of protest, then started shifting around in Dan’s arms. Dan loosened his grasp as Phil moved, stretching and letting out a content sigh, then scooting up so they were laying eye to eye. “I’m awake,” he repeated, a lopsided smile on his face. “What’s up, Dan?”

“Busy mind,” Dan sighed.

“I know how that is,” Phil patted his hand around under the covers, squeezing Dan’s hand when he found it.

Dan barked out a laugh, too loud for the quiet that had fallen over his flat, “I feel like I’m in over my head,” Dan explained with a sigh. He pulled his hand out of Phil’s, so he could run it up and down his bare arm, stopping at his wrist to play with the chain that wrapped around it. 

“With this whole collaboration thing?” Phil quirked a brow. 

“No, no...not that, per se. I’ve been thinking…” 

“That’s never a good thing,” Phil teased when Dan trailed off. 

“Hey!” Dan lightly shoved at his shoulder. Phil just giggled, his tongue poking through his teeth as he laughed. Dan kind of wanted to bite the expression right off his face, so he did. Phil squeaked in response, but kissed him back the second his bottom lip was freed from Dan’s teeth. 

Dan tried to deepen the kiss, but Phil pulled away, “Uh-uh,” he tutted, “tell me what you’ve been thinking, I’ll behave.” 

Dan groaned, low in his throat, “What if _I_ don’t behave?” he winked, then tried to pull Phil closer to him again. 

“You’re annoying,” Phil replied, though he sounded like he meant the exact opposite. He held him at an arm’s length so he could look him in the eye, “You wanted to talk about something, what’s up? What are you doubting?” 

Dan sighed and rolled over so he was on his back, only slightly annoyed that Phil could practically read his mind. Phil copied his movements, until they were both shoulder to shoulder, heads on the same pillow, looking up at the ceiling. 

Dan cleared his throat, “I’ve been thinking…” Phil giggled softly beside him, Dan smiled. “I’ve been thinking about this whole collaboration and, like, creating things…” He turned his head to the side, only to see that Phil had done the same, already looking at Dan. “I like it. A lot. I know we haven’t even finalized the designs for this collab, but I already want to do _more._ ” Dan couldn’t help but let his excitement shine through, his eyes crinkling as he smiled at the idea, “I want to like...I don’t know, maybe this sounds stupid...but I keep thinking about what it would be like to make my _own_ brand, like branch out beyond just Instagram sponsorships and collaborations.” 

“You could do that,” Phil said, matter-of-factly. 

Dan hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, like I said, I feel like I’m in over my head. It’s a _lot_ and it’s so different. I’m so used to my checklists and routines that I can follow in my sleep when it comes to just posting photos, trying to do this would change everything.” 

“So you’ll make new checklists and fall into new routines,” Phil grabbed at Dan’s hand under the covers, drumming his fingers against Dan’s knuckles. “This time next year, you’ll be doing those in your sleep.” 

Dan wasn’t entirely sure of that, but Phil’s voice made him want to be. “I wish I could be as confident in myself as you are in me.” 

“I wish you could see yourself how I see you.” 

Dan thought for a while, looking at Phil as Phil looked back, like they were searching for answers in each other’s eyes. “I think I can feel it, when I look at you.” 

Phil hummed, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “You’re brilliant. Maybe the most brilliant thing in my life.” 

Dan blushed, pushing forward to kiss Phil, not trusting the words that were pooling in his chest, threatening to bubble up and out of his mouth. He could feel it. He knew for sure - although, he’s probably known for a while - that he loved Phil. With every ounce of his being he loved _every single thing_ about Phil. He loved who he was with Phil. He loved it all. But he didn’t think he was ready to let that all out yet. Even though they’ve gotten far past trying to keep up pretenses of “going slow” - like most normal people in new relationships, but they weren’t normal - the realization didn’t just erase all his hangups about the feeling that was currently swelling in his chest. He just wasn’t ready. So he kissed Phil instead. 

“Radical concept,” Dan said after they parted, a lightbulb going off in his head. 

“Hit me,” Phil rolled onto his side, his eyes on Dan. Dan, who - like the punk he is - waggled his eyebrows at Phil until he received a fond “ _shut up."_

“Okay, radical concept...” Dan repeated and Phil nodded his head. “Would you consider working with me?” 

“What?” Phil spluttered, clearly not expecting _that_ to come out of Dan’s mouth. He _did_ warn him it was a radical concept. 

“I’m a creative, you’re a creative,” Dan gestured between the two of them, “ _you probably more so,”_ he added with a mumble. Phil instantly shook his head, but Dan didn’t give him a moment to protest, “Shh, just think about it…I don’t know the first thing about media outside of, well, social media, but you have experience with that.” He explained excitedly, sitting up in the bed, “I have been thinking about branching out to video, like, IGTV look-books and the like, and that would be a perfect medium to work with if I’m thinking of expanding into my own brand, but I also don’t know the first thing about video production.” 

“And I do,” Phil added, shifting so he was propped up on his elbows, looking up at Dan. “But don’t they say you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure?” 

Dan hummed, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth in contemplation. He looked down at Phil with a grin on his face, “Yeah, but we’re different.” Phil pursed his lips in thought and Dan chewed at his lip, “Say no though, if you really don’t want to. I don’t want you to think you’re obligated, I just think we would probably work well together.” 

“I…” Phil moved to sit up properly in bed, up against the headboard, shoulder bumping Dan’s, “I want to. Let’s do it.” he nodded his head once, like he was sure. And when he turned his head to look at Dan, Dan saw the same sureness in his expression - eyes bright, smile wide. “I’ll stick with you, if you stick with me.” he added, repeating Dan’s own words that pulled at Dan’s heart strings - in the best way. 

“Dan and Phil versus the world?” Dan whistled, trying out the phrase, eliciting a laugh from Phil. The action vibrated through their touching shoulders, causing a similar feeling to buzz through his chest. 

“Dan and Phil versus the world,” Phil repeated, holding a single pinky finger out between them. 

  
  



	22. Chapter 22

Dan wasn’t quite sure how he wasn’t wearing a hole into his floor, with the way he had been pacing circles around his flat for the better half of an hour now. He knew that his head would have a better chance of clearing if he did a lap around the block, or even through the nearby park, but he still hadn’t warmed up from when he left his flat that morning. 

It was unreasonably cold in London lately, even for late December. Despite all the layers Dan had piled on, he was an absolute human popsicle after the short walk from the tube station to Phil’s door the day after Phil had left for Christmas to the Isle of Man. Needless to say, the following few days of stopping by to check in on and feed Phil’s fish were done so via taxi. 

His pacing slowed, only for a moment, as he double checked the weather app on his phone to see that, _yes,_ it _had_ actually gotten colder than it was that morning. If his teeth were chattering after the few moments he spent in the elements, going from a car to Phil’s door, he definitely couldn’t go for a walk right now. He sighed and continued to pace. 

He wouldn’t say that he and Phil have become unhealthily codependent, because that wasn’t true. At least, Dan didn’t think as much. If they _were_ getting codependent, it was nowhere near the point of them not being able to handle being away from each other for a handful of days. Sure, in the short time they’ve known each other they’ve spent a lot of time together, but they spent almost an equal amount of time apart, and he hadn’t felt this unsettled during those times. So why now? Why has he increasingly felt like he was _missing something_ the past few days? Of course he missed Phil, but he didn’t think that was entirely why he was pacing right now, why his thoughts wouldn’t just stop yelling at each other. 

He thinks, or well, he _knows_ that he made the wrong decision. When he said no to Phil, said that he wasn’t ready, was he telling the truth? Maybe he thought so, at the time, but he could feel the opposite now. He could feel it when he stopped pacing to look over at the tree on his dining table, covered in Phil’s decorations. He could feel it when he started to snatch Phil’s phone whenever they were lounging on his couch, programming different light patterns on Phil’s big Christmas tree with a grin. He could feel it every time Phil would absentmindedly hum Christmas songs under his breath. And he could feel it the most - like a strong current flowing through his entire being - with every picture of the sea, of plates of biscuits Phil and his mum made, or of Phil in a homey-looking cafe, hot drink in hand, that came through his phone. He could feel that he _was_ ready, maybe he has been for a while. 

He didn’t think Phil was the catalyst, now that he thinks about it. Even through all his angst and melodrama over the past five years, he was healing. Slowly, incredibly slowly (maybe the misplaced grudge on a time of year had something to do with the pace, _maybe...definitely_ ), but by the time he met Phil, the wound seemed to have already been scabbed over. Dan began to realize that fact around the time he first told Phil why he hated Christmas so much, and it just kept becoming more and more clear as the days passed, getting closer and closer to the twenty-fifth. Phil wasn’t the catalyst per se, but Phil situated himself into his life and finally made him open his eyes to realize it. 

Phil made Dan feel a sense of home again. Dan didn’t know if he could explain it, but he could feel it. The way it made him feel overwhelmed him at times, because he always had to feel everything _too much_. So many new feelings, all at once, felt so deeply. It scared him at first, he would bet it scared both of them at first, but it feels less scary now. For the first time in a long time, there is someone in his life that is there because they want to be there. Someone that likes him for him - weird quirks, baggage, and all - with no ulterior motives and under no obligations. He didn’t just put up with Dan, and Dan didn’t just put up with Phil, they genuinely wanted to be together, to be around each other, and even work together.

Dan hadn’t had any relationships like this before, be it romantic, platonic, or even familial. So that was new, in Dan’s life, sad as it may be. Although, Dan never really saw it as sad. He guesses because it was something he never had, it was something he never yearned for. If you asked him before he met Phil, he would probably say he wasn’t missing that in his life. But now, now that he has it, he couldn’t imagine being without. 

His relationship with Phil was something that he cherished, it felt bigger than words when he tried to verbalize it. Yes, he _was_ in love with Phil, absolutely, but the word “love” didn’t seem big enough. Soulmates seemed cliché. Phil was just his person. That was the closest he could get to putting words to the way he felt. 

_Hell,_ so what if Dan liked the way soulmate sounded as well? It fit, it made sense, and sometimes Dan couldn’t be entirely sure that he wasn’t actually living in some cheesy romantic comedy...so why not embrace it? And no, he wasn’t going to try to explain how he and Phil were soulmates when souls weren’t even real. He couldn’t explain it, he could only feel it. 

No one needed to understand anyways, other than the two of them. Which Dan thinks, he hopes, Phil could feel it too. 

So maybe he was pacing at the moment because he _could_ feel that he was missing something. He _was_ yearning for something. He wanted to be celebrating Christmas. With Phil. With Phil’s family. The realization that _that_ was what he was yearning for, what his heart and mind were currently so jumbled over, absolutely terrified him. But it wasn’t the realization in itself that scared him, no, it was the fact that he _didn’t_ feel any negative emotions when he thought about celebrating Christmas with Phil that terrified him. Which shouldn’t surprise him as much as it did, considering over the past month and a half he had been on this odd journey with Phil, learning to let go and love the holiday season again. Or, as Phil would put it, _learning to not be such a Grinch._

Speak of the devil, or the angel, or...whatever mystical being Phil might actually be - Dan’s phone dinged from the other side of the room. He crossed the room and flopped down on his bed, fishing his phone out from between the sheets, and rolled onto his back to look at his phone. 

**Phil:** _My son! He looks happy! Did you tell him I love him???_

Dan couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he read Phil’s reaction to the picture of Norman he had sent a few hours ago. He started to tap out a response - reassuring Phil that _of course_ he babbled to the fish like it was a cat or a dog while he fed it, a habit he had quickly picked up from Phil - but he was interrupted by another message and photo coming through. 

**Phil:** _We just got back from a walk at the cliffs_

The picture attached wasn’t much different from the others he had gotten over the past few days: the shining Irish sea from the vantage point of the rocky cliffs. Dan noted how the family seemed to go on the same walk, around the same time, each day. 

**Phil:** _I think that the feeling I get when looking down at the sea here is the same feeling I get when I look at you._

Dan re-read the new message that had just popped up at least ten times, dropped his phone on the bed beside him to push his fists into his eyes, and then picked his phone back up to read the message again three more times. _They were each other’s person._

Dan forwent tapping out a response to Phil, hitting the call button instead, because Dan was sure now. He knew what he wanted, and he wouldn’t let that nagging part of his brain talk him out of it this time. 

“Hello?” Phil’s voice sounded deeper, his accent more northern over the phone. 

Dan skipped any greetings or formalities, speaking in a rush the second Phil answered. “If I left London, do you know of someone else that could feed Norman for you?” 

“Huh?” There was a rustle over the phone, then a soft click of a door shutting. “Where are you going? Uh sorry, I mean, yeah, no I’ll be home in two days. If you fed him today, he can go a few days just fine, so don’t worry about that.” The confusion in Phil’s voice was obvious as he tried to answer Dan and also wrap his head around what could be going on. 

“Okay, are you sure?” Dan sat up and tilted his head against his shoulder to hold his phone in place while he pulled his laptop off his pillow and onto his lap. 

“Mhm,” Phil hummed, the rising inflection in his tone making the silence that followed a bit more loud. Dan didn’t want to leave Phil confused or questioning when he didn’t have to, but he really didn’t want to say what he was going to say next until he confirmed it was even possible. 

He pulled the page up on his laptop, typing in the necessary information, and saying a silent prayer before hitting the search button. 

“Dan?” 

“Sorry, sorry I just wanted to make sure…” he trailed off as the page loaded, a singular flight time for later that night stared back at him, a green box above it alerting him there were still seats available. 

“Make sure?” Phil parroted when Dan didn’t finish his sentence. Dan obviously couldn’t see him, but he would bet that the crease between Phil’s eyebrows was scrunched up - like it always did when he was anxious or confused. 

Dan clicked through to book the flight, “Okay, Phil, tell me if I’m being absolutely ridiculous right now…” 

“You’re always being ridiculous,” Phil quipped, a soft giggle followed. 

“Thanks,” Dan replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. He took in a breath, closing his eyes as he breathed out, “What are you doing tonight at around-” Dan opened his eyes to scroll back up to double check the arrival time, “seven or so?” 

“Probably will just be starting Lester family game night, as it’s Christmas Eve tradition,” Phil answered easily enough, although there was still audible confusion in his tone. 

Dan put the phone on speaker, dropping it on the bed next to him so he could type in his information. “Would it be sacrilegious if you stepped away from game night for a few to...oh, I dunno…” he feigned nonchalance, “maybe, pick up a cute boy from the airport?” 

Phil squeaked on the other end of the line, and Dan couldn’t help but laugh at the noise. Okay, maybe he _really_ did miss Phil. 

“Depends on who the cute boy is,” Phil said after a beat. 

Dan laughed as he finalized the purchase, “Me, duh.” 

“Oh, so you’re cute?” Phil teased. 

“So I’ve been told.” 

“By who?” 

“Phiiiiil!” Dan groaned into the phone as Phil laughed in his ear. They set each other off into a fit of giggles, so absolutely typical of them, and Dan almost forgot why they were on the phone in the first place. Until Phil spoke up once the laughter died down. 

“Dan are you like, actually being serious right now?” Phil was trying, and failing, to keep the excitement out of his voice when he asked. 

“Yep,” Dan replied with a pop, picking up his phone and tapping away from the call screen. “At least, that’s what this boarding pass that I just added to my Apple Wallet would say,” he added with a sly grin on his face. 

“Oh my god!” Phil’s voice boomed through the phone, and Dan was glad he didn’t still have it pressed to his ear. “You’re serious!” he giggled. 

“Yes,” Dan huffed out a laugh, unable to contain his grin. He was absolutely in double dimple territory from Phil’s excited response. “Is that okay?” 

“More than okay!” Phil quickly assured him. “Dan, I wanted you to come up here with me!” 

“I think I wanted to come up too,” Dan took his phone off speaker and held it back up to his ear, “I just...you know how I am…” Phil hummed in acknowledgement. “I realized today that I shouldn’t let my past traumas...or whatever...get in the way of things I want. And right now, I want Christmas with you. The whole thing. The biscuits and the game nights and the pretending that Santa is real-”

“Hey!” Phil cut him off. Dan shook his head and laughed. 

“Shush, I’m trying to be a sap right now!” 

“I want all that too,” Phil said in a soft voice, “go and pack a bag and get your butt on that plane, so I can kiss you sooner!” 

“I don’t think that’ll make the flight go any faster, Phil,” Dan rolled his eyes. 

“Yes it will, now go do it! And text me the details so I can pick you up.” Phil instructed, and Dan could hear what sounded like him running down stairs. 

“Okay dad.” 

“I’m so happy you’re coming - oh! Mum! Dan’s coming!” Dan could hear a muffled, higher voice responding to Phil. 

“Me too, I’ll text you okay?” Dan attempted to wrap up the call so he could prepare for his spontaneous decision, but it was proving difficult as Phil was now fully engaged in a conversation - _about him_ \- with his mum. “Phiiil,” Dan sang when he didn’t respond to him, instead telling his mum that they needed to wait to make _“biscuits for santa_." Dan’s face started to hurt from how much he was smiling.

“Oh! Sorry, I’m so excited I forgot you were still on the phone!” Dan could hear Phil’s mum laughing at him in the background, he smiled impossibly wider. 

“You’re so weird.” 

“No, you’re weird.” 

“We’re both weird,” Dan settled, “I’ll see you soon okay?” 

“Okay!”


	23. Chapter 23

Once he had hung up the phone with Phil and sent him his flight details, Dan was bouncing up to busy himself with getting ready and packing a bag. He had more than enough time to get to the airport - his flight wasn’t until six - but he didn’t want to risk having any moment of downtime that could spur his brain into fight or flight mode, telling him to cancel and not go. He didn’t think his mind would do that, he felt overwhelmingly secure in the decision, but Dan’s brain was nothing if not unpredictable. He couldn’t trust it to not suddenly go into a panic about flying out to go to Phil’s _family Christmas._ He felt even more secure in the decision when his mouth tugged up into a smile at the thought. He was actually going to _Phil’s family Christmas. Wow, how things have changed._ Dan couldn’t help but do a bit of a happy dance as he made his way over to his closet, thankful that no one could see him in his absolute excited teenage girl state. 

Dan dropped down on his knees once he opened his closet, and dug around until he found his black Herschel duffle backpack that was tucked away in the back corner behind his much, much larger black Montblanc luggage. That case was his usual go-to, but this time he wouldn’t be needing something that big, he would barely even be gone for a few days. Honestly, his duffle was probably oversized for the trip, but he didn’t want to jam everything in one of his smaller regular backpacks, so he pulled it out of his closet and stood back up to survey his options. 

Choosing his outfits was _always_ a difficult and long process for Dan because he was such a perfectionist when it came to fashion, but he felt a larger, invisible weight of pressure on his shoulders as he realized he was picking out an outfit to meet Phil’s _parents_ for the first time in. Not only that, but his brother and basically-sister-in-law as well. Dan groaned, running a nervous hand through his curls, tugging at them slightly before letting go. These were the people Phil spoke the highest about, the people that he spoke of constantly. It was no secret that he thought highly of them and, in turn, of their opinions, so how was Dan supposed to even comprehend how to impress them. He forewent biting at his lip, pulling his hand up to his mouth to bite at his sparkly, black thumbnail instead. 

_Ugh,_ that didn’t cross his mind until just now. Dan pulled his thumb out of his mouth to hold his hands up in front of him. Nails in a perfectly painted, black holographic glitter were staring back at him - he had just painted them the night before, there wasn’t a chip in sight, except for the tiny one that had just started to form from biting at his thumb. It would be a _sin_ to get the acetone out and wipe them off so soon, but he didn’t know if they would be okay. _What would they think?_ Dan bit at his lip, tugging a piece of dead skin off with the action, _gross._ Since when did he care about what other people thought about his fashion choices? This wasn’t 2015, he didn’t give a _shit_ about what other people thought anymore. So why did the thought of taking the polish off even cross his mind. Dan sighed. Phil had never once insinuated that his family was intolerant, the absolute opposite actually, from what Dan knew they were the _most_ accepting group of people. He nervously cracked his knuckles and willed the thought out of his mind, focusing back on picking out clothes.

He didn’t need to worry, he could just be himself. He repeated the sentiment over and over in his head - like a mantra - until he believed it, as he picked out a few outfits. Obviously he didn’t own anything that was appropriate for Christmas, so he haphazardly threw a soft black cable knit sweater and his favorite black and white striped sweater in his duffle bag. They were nice enough pieces that Dan wouldn’t feel out of place in them in a fancy setting, but they weren’t so over the top that he would feel out of place in a casual setting either. He wasn’t sure what Phil’s family’s Christmas vibe was like, and quite frankly, he was a bit afraid to text Phil to ask - not wanting to let on that he was feeling the opposite of cool and effortless about all of this. If Phil took one look at his face though, he would know. _Hell_ , he knew Dan so well he probably already knew without needing to speak to him. 

Dan’s most basic black Topman skinny jeans joined the sweaters in his bag, he knew it was too cold for the exposed knees of his favorite ripped jeans. At least, that’s what he told himself the reasoning was, _not_ because he was worried that they were a bit _too much_. He didn’t want to come across as too much, even though that was basically a personality trait of his at this point. He didn’t even analyze the decision, quickly busing himself with figuring out what he would actually wear to travel there. He pulled off the joggers he was wearing and replaced them with his black Maharishi track pants, they were comfortable for travel - even if the plane journey was incredibly short, Dan would die before wearing _jeans_ on a flight - and Dan thought they were quite stylish for how comfortable they were. They could almost pass as a pair of smart trousers when paired with the right pieces, and Dan had just the piece. He abandoned his closet, padded across the room to his clothes rack by his bed, and tossed his duffle on the bed. He scanned the rack, locating and gently pulling his Burberry zip up turtleneck off its hanger. He pulled the black fabric over his head, and zipped the neckline up completely once it was on - the zippers on each side tickling at his neck. He felt like he looked scholarly in the outfit, _whatever that meant_. Whatever impression he was trying to give off...he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing. 

While he was over by his bed, he bent down in front of his dresser and pulled out a few pairs of pants, socks, his black Calvin Klein joggers, and an oversized pajama shirt with cats on it. Dan hummed to himself as he ( _badly)_ folded the clothes and placed them in his bag. He turned back towards his dresser and fished out his matching Givenchy scarf and glove set, the warmest ones he had. He tucked the gloves in the pocket of his parka and pulled that off his rack as well, tossing it on the bed with the scarf. 

As he was giving everything a once over, his phone buzzed from where it was sat under Dan’s coat. He patted around until he found it and checked the notification, noticing it was a story post from Phil. _Yes, Dan had him on notifications._ Dan grinned and swiped to open it, he was met with a video of what looked like a kitchen counter with various baking ingredients spread out in a disorganized mess. 

“ _What are we doing, Mum?”_ Phil’s voice came through Dan’s phone, his voice was so deep and had fully slipped into his Northern accent that Dan barely recognized it. He pressed against the side of his phone to turn up the volume as it played. 

“ _You mean, what am_ **_I_ ** _doing Phillip Michael…”_ a light teasing voice responded as Phil panned the camera up to his mum standing in front of the oven. 

“ _Muuuum_ ,” Dan could hear the pout in Phil’s voice. _God,_ he could kiss his phone screen right now. He didn’t, but he _could_ \- all the mushy feelings in his chest for Phil turning him into the biggest sap in the world. 

“ _I'_ _m making_ **_someone_ ** _more mince pies,”_ Phil’s mum affectionately answered, sticking her hand in a tub of flower as she spoke, flicking it at Phil. Phil squeaked and flipped the camera around, his pouting face now taking over the screen, white speckles of flower stuck to his nose. Dan had never felt more in love. 

“ _Mum makes the best mince pies,_ ” Phil smiled at the camera before the story clicked away. Dan smiled at his phone, clicking the story open again to watch it just _one more time_ , and replied to it with a row of heart emojis. He then switched over to his messaging, sending Phil a quick text as well. 

**Dan:** _tell kath she owns my entire heart pls_

 _You as well_ , his mind provided. But he kept that to himself. 

Dan tossed his phone back on his bed and headed into his bathroom to collect a few toiletries. As he was packing his essentials into a sleek black makeup bag, he had an idea, and turned to his shelving that housed all of his towels and a large white wicker basket full to the brim of beauty and self care items that he’s gotten from PR. He pulled a bunch of things out - a stack of luxury face masks, a couple bath bombs, and a few unopened nail polish sets in bright colors he would never wear, but somehow had been holding onto instead of donating. Now that the plan was rolling in his head, he zoomed through the rest of his packing, adding the items to his bag and making sure he had everything - he would need to be quick if he wanted to get this done before his flight. 

He quadruple checked that he had everything after he had bundled up in his jacket and scarf and slid on his white slip-on vans. Once he was confident he wasn’t forgetting anything, he zipped his duffle bag closed and turned it so he could use its backpack straps, slinging it over his shoulder. He did a once over of his apartment, assuring himself that he wasn’t leaving anything on that would make it spontaneously combust while he was gone. He gave his orchid a little mist and said a silent prayer that it would survive a few days without watering. He grabbed his keys off the breakfast bar counter, ducked into his kitchen to grab his black reusable tote bag, and was out the door in record time. 

He made a quick pit stop - quicker with his pace from being out in the frigid cold air, it almost felt like it was going to snow, but the weather forecast wasn’t predicting snow the last time Dan checked - before catching a train to the airport. Few places were actually still open, as it was the day of Christmas Eve, so Dan made due with what he was given. None of it was what he would have _wanted_ to get if given the time to actually think and shop, but he was left on a time crunch with very few options, and he really didn’t want to show up empty handed. That wasn’t his style. He constantly felt the overwhelming desire to _impress_ and be _perfect_ around people that were important to him. And even though Dan didn’t know them yet, by extension of Phil, Phil’s family were already important to him. So he _had_ to get them something. 

Once Dan’s tote bag was full and he was sat on the train to Gatwick, he let out an anxious breath, feeling lighter with it. He was pleasantly surprised that he could actually sit down for once. There were even multiple open seats next to him, that was a true rarity. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and took a boomerang of his face, eyes looking side to side, and posted it on his story with the caption: **_i have unlocked the secret of getting a seat on the tube travel on christmas eve when everyone is already at their destinations with their families_ **

He didn’t even feel a painful squeeze at his heart as he typed the caption, no, because he was headed towards _his Phil._ He just felt warm all over, grinning to himself like an idiot on public transportation. 

A minute later his phone buzzed in his hand, he looked down at it to see a reply to his story from Phil, just a row of heart eye emojis. Then it buzzed again, a text from Phil. 

**Phil:** _Get here faster, pls_

 **Dan:** _mate i’m not even at the airport yet and there’s like 4 hours til the flight_

 **Phil:** _Fasterrrrrrrrrrr_

Dan got to the airport and through security without any incidents, which was very unlike Dan. It wasn’t traveling with him if he didn’t have eighty different things go wrong when he was going through security or customs, but things were looking up today. The airport was hauntingly empty, a product of not many people choosing to fly on Christmas Eve, so there were no lines or fuss going through security. The combination of a not busy airport, plus the fact that he was flying such a short distance with no need to fuss about going international, lent for a surprisingly anxiety free experience. Dan didn’t know what he did to receive such good karma, but he appreciated it.

Dan made his way to duty free, stopping at the Starbucks on the way and surprising himself as he ordered the gingerbread latte that Phil was so obsessed with. Maybe Dan was just thrown into a parallel universe or twilight zone after stepping into that John Lewis the first of November, maybe that’s why he was being so bold and trying new things. He sipped at the steaming coffee as he walked along, perusing the various stores in the airport. It was definitely too sweet for Dan’s liking, even though he ordered it with almond milk and no whip. He still preferred his coffee black, but he didn’t hate it. Not at all. He kind of liked it. 

He stopped when he found what he was looking for, stepping up to the rows of liquor in duty free, racking his brain to figure out what was the good stuff. Dan wasn’t entirely well versed in good versus bad alcohol, so after an abandoned attempt at googling, he just picked out two bottles - a gin and a whiskey - that were on the higher end of pricing out of all the bottles that sat before him. _That’s how you could tell they were good, right?_ He paid, not even blinking at the total, and shuffled the things in his tote bag around so he could stick the two boxes of spirits in alongside them. With a check of the time, which he had plenty of - another thing that was very unlike Dan - he headed towards his gate and found a spot there to post up and carry out his plan. 

There was definitely something cathartic about airports, especially so when they were this empty. The people watching felt so much more personal when there weren’t hundreds upon hundreds of people buzzing about. All the coming and going, the unbridled joy and sadness on people’s faces, had a way of pushing and pulling at Dan’s emotions. Dan breathed in deeply through his nose, letting it out as he watched a woman walk past where he was sat, who was animatedly telling whoever she was on the phone with that her delayed flight would still make it in time for Christmas. Dan smiled, happy that the stranger was happy. 

He people watched and eavesdropped a bit longer, then dug his AirPods out of his bag when it started to get monotonous. He scrolled through his Spotify playlists, looking down at his phone with his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to decide what mood he was in. Now that he thought about it, flicking up and down the list of his playlists, he didn’t think he has made a playlist yet for the way he was feeling. He filed that thought away for later, and settled on one of his productive playlists, because he _did_ need to be a bit productive right now. He adjusted the volume - high enough for him to bop along, but low enough that he could still be aware of the sounds around him - and slid down from the chair he was sitting in, settling on the airport floor with his two bags in front of him. 

It was the best he could do in such a short amount of time, he thought to himself as he sorted through all of the gifts he had collected. It might actually be _too much,_ considering he barely knew Phil’s family, but when was Dan ever anything less than _too much?_ Out from the tote bag he pulled three black gift bags, with a gold glitter confetti design, and some burgundy tissue paper - the only appropriate wrapping supplies he could find that didn’t make him completely roll his eyes in the sparse Tesco by his flat. He was a bit disappointed neither Tesco, nor the liquor section in duty free had any more of the taller, skinnier gift bags for alcohol left, but he guesses that’s to be expected so close to Christmas. The thought didn’t even cross his mind until he stepped into the bare Tesco. It had been so long since he had actually actively looked for gift wrapping during Christmastime, he forgot that it was always best to do the shopping sooner rather than later. Once upon a time, doing the Christmas shopping at the very beginning of December was something he looked forward to, and now, well now he could see himself enjoying it again. That was definitely an odd thought to think, but it didn’t hurt. It really didn’t.

So he didn’t have pretty gift bags for them, but the boxes for the two bottles of gin and whiskey were quite fancy, definitely with thanks to their price. Dan ran a hand up the soft velvet texture of the gin’s box, that was a win at least. He surveyed the rest of the things he had gathered. The items he had picked out from his PR stash were quite nice as well. He didn’t know much personally about Phil’s mum or his brother’s girlfriend, but he thinks anyone would be excited for the bit of a pamper that the items promised, so that was definitely a win as well. He thoughtfully separated out the beauty items into two different piles, tapping his foot on the floor to the FKA twigs song that played in his ears as he carefully attempted to wrap everything in the deep red tissue paper. He knew it looked nowhere near as good as anything Phil could do - _the little Christmas elf gift wrapping machine_ , Dan rolled his eyes - but he was proud of the end result. Two identical small gift bags sat in front of him when he was finished, he fluffed at the bits of tissue paper he meticulously placed on top, admiring his work. That would have to do. 

He then moved on to the last two things that were still sat in his tote bag, a slight frown sat on his face - he didn’t think those were entirely a win. They were sweet...maybe...but he wasn’t one hundred percent happy with them. This was all last minute though, he reminded himself, he didn’t even know he was going to be _fucking flying to the Isle of Man_ when he woke this morning, so he couldn’t be too tough on himself. He could, and would, make up for it after the holiday, when he had the time and ability to find something _perfect_ for Phil. Because Phil deserved perfect, and yeah, maybe Dan was a little pissed at himself that he didn’t realize that sooner. He should’ve gotten Phil something for Christmas before he even left, regardless of how Dan was feeling towards the holiday, but he didn’t. Dan could be as cynical as he wanted about Christmas, but it still meant something to Phil. It was important to Phil, so it made him feel extra shitty that he hadn’t let himself fully embrace it until now. Even though Dan wasn’t entirely sure if he was fully embracing it or not yet, only time would tell. Dan angrily ripped at the piece of tissue paper in his hand, he _hated_ how such a stupid thing still held him back all these years later. Even now, when he was sat in the middle of an airport, waiting to board a flight to _actually_ go spend Christmas with someone he loved after deciding it was time to create _new memories_ , he still was suffering the repercussions of his past. 

Dan sighed, closing his eyes to breathe in and out, until he felt less anger flowing through his veins. _There is no need_ , a small voice in his brain reminded him, _no need to beat yourself up over this. Phil isn’t expecting lavish gifts. He just wants you._ Dan continued to breathe, trying to settle all the emotions he was feeling, and reached over to grab the third small gift bag he bought. He methodically opened it up and gently placed a fresh sheet of tissue paper inside of it, pulling at the edges until they poked out of the top as perfectly as he could get them. He then retrieved the two items he had picked out for Phil when he stopped at Tesco. The first being a cute tree ornament of a corgi, he stuck his finger through the ribbon and let it hang from his hand - the corgi spinning in front of him. Dan finally let a smile return to his face. It was _definitely_ cheesy, as it was a touristy recreation of one of the Queen’s corgis - little crown atop its head and all. But Phil was obsessed with corgis, and he thought of him the second he saw it so he hoped Phil would like it. Dan gently wrapped the corgi in the tissue paper and placed him in the gift bag. 

The second thing Dan had picked up for Phil, well, he still wasn’t quite sure why he bought it. When he saw it in Tesco, he _hated_ that it made him think of them, but he couldn’t stop himself from buying it. So he did. He wrapped the second ornament in tissue paper as well, gently placing it in the bag with the corgi, and then crumpled his last piece of paper on top of the bag. Once they were all assembled, he carefully placed the three gift bags back into his tote bag, and then shuffled his clothes around in his duffle bag so he could fit the two boxes of liquor in with them. 

He felt much better when it was all finished, he thinks he just needed that small moment of freak out that he had. This _was_ a big step, after all, as much as he didn’t want to think about it. It was. Not in the usual sense of going to meet your significant other’s parents though, no, there was so much more to it. It was the first time in five years that Dan had even _thought_ about celebrating Christmas, never mind actually choosing to celebrate it. So the fear and doubt and anger that bubbled up to the top made sense, this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. And deep down, Dan knew he needed to be less hard on himself. For once in his life, _no one_ was expecting anything from him. He didn’t need to act a certain way, or be a certain thing, or be forced to carry out any obligations. He needed to keep reminding himself of that. Everything was different now, and that was a good thing. A very good thing, in spite of the bullshit that took so much away from Dan all those years ago. _New memories,_ he repeated. _Replace the old with the new._

It was weird. How someone could spend so long piecing their own heart back together, wrapping bits of scotch tape around and around until it felt whole again, just to have another person finally come by and press the last piece in place with a dab of superglue. It was weird, how easily that someone could then just rip it out and hand it over to that person, so positive it wouldn’t be broken again. Despite how weird it was, that’s what Dan was doing. And out of everything going on around and within him, somehow _that_ was the thing that scared him the least. 

Now that he had nothing to busy himself with and his mind was dangerously reeling, Dan checked the time and pulled his AirPods out of his ears, tucking them back into his bag. He stood up and stretched, back making an audible pop, and slung his bags back over his shoulder. He decided to make a quick lap to the bathroom and to grab himself something to snack on. 

Twenty minutes later, he plopped himself and his bags back down in the seats by his gate, armed with a refill of his coffee and a pre-packaged peanut butter and jelly sandwich - the only vegan thing he could get his hands on, as mostly everything in the airport was closed besides duty free, a few random shops, a Starbucks, and a quick grab-and-go food stall. Dan had to keep reminding himself that it _was_ Christmas Eve, things should be closed, people absolutely shouldn’t be working, and he shouldn’t grumble about the lack of options. He wouldn’t be here much longer anyways - he looked at his watch, only a bit over an hour until boarding - and soon he would be with Phil _and his family_ . And not to mention he would _definitely_ not be eating vegan the next few days - the good streak of his diet be damned - as that was just how the holidays went, so he didn’t even make a face as he chewed his sandwich. 

If he were paying more attention, maybe, he would have noticed that he was tapping his foot where it was crossed over his knee and humming under his breath to the music that was softly playing throughout the airport. But he wasn’t paying attention, he was too engrossed in his snack and alternating between scrolling through his Twitter, Instagram, and texting Phil to notice what he was doing. So there Dan sat, in Gatwick airport, clad in all black, surrounded by his black bags, singing along to Michael Bublé’s rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” under his breath. Somehow he was just blissfully unaware. 


	24. Chapter 24

Boarding for Dan’s flight was called and he collected his things, shooting Phil a quick text as he made his way over. 

**Dan:** _we’re boarding now, should be in a bit after 7_

Dan could do nothing but grin at his phone like an idiot when Phil replied instantly, just a row of exclamation points and smiling emojis. Then another text came through. 

**Phil:** _I’ll be there :)_

 **Dan:** _:)_

He hit send on the message and then closed the thread to pull up his boarding pass. He tried not to think too much about any sort of final destination outcomes when he saw how small the plane was. It made sense, now that he thought about it. Obviously they wouldn’t be using planes the size he was used to flying on for the short trip to the Isle, but it was unsettling to be on a plane that was probably half the size of any plane he’d ever been on. The flight was fairly empty - not a lot of people traveling to the Isle of Man on Christmas Eve - and the flight crew was friendly, so he tried to get every disaster scene out of his brain and settled into his seat. 

Once they were in the air, Dan began to feel excitement tingle through his body. He watched the city get smaller and smaller through the window with a smile on his face, his heart now racing for a reason other than flying anxiety. He picked his phone up from his lap and took a quick video of the sky for his story, no caption needed. Something pulled at his chest as he looked out the small window. It was Christmas Eve and he wasn’t traveling _away_ from something, he was traveling _to_ it. His cheeks weren’t wet with tears, he wouldn’t be sat home alone this year, everything was so different. 

Dan felt like he blinked and the flight was over. He had barely even scratched the surface of his travel playlist by the time they were descending. He pulled his jacket back on, wrapping his scarf back around his neck, and collected his things, ready to jet (yes, pun intended, always) off the plane the second they landed. He was only mere moments away from Phil, and he didn’t want to wait any longer. 

As he was walking down the aisle of the small plane to exit, head bowed down to not _hit the roof of the plane_ , he felt his phone buzz in his pocket a few times - coming back into service. He waited to pull his phone out until he was off the plane and through arrivals, not wanting to get lost while distracted on his phone. It turned out that wasn’t really a valid concern, he realized, as he looked around the airport. It was incredibly small, there was no way anyone could get lost in here. It was a bit eerie though, with how empty it was. There were very few people milling about the airport, just a sparse amount of staff and the handful of people that shared the flight with Dan. It was practically silent as well, the people that were speaking doing so in hushed tones, and Dan noted there wasn’t any music playing through the overhead speakers as he walked along. For some reason, such a dead airport gave him the creeps, sending a tingle down his spine. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, scanning his notifications to see if he had any messages or calls from Phil. He did, one from around the time Dan took off and one from fifteen minutes prior. 

**Phil:** _Have a safe flight! Tell the pilot they’re carrying precious cargo!_

Dan smiled and shook his head at his phone as he walked through the airport.

 **Phil:** _I’m here_

Dan quickly located, seemingly, the _only_ exit _and_ pick-up area, and made his way over. He shivered as he stepped outside, shoving his hands further into his jacket pockets - he probably should’ve put his gloves on. The air was chilled, but it was fresh in a way the London air was not. The breeze that bit at his cheeks was salty, and if it wasn’t for how cold it was he would’ve taken a deep breath in and out to savor it. He didn’t though, he probably would’ve frozen his lungs from the inside out if he did, but his body felt lighter with his short intakes of air regardless. He scanned the scene in front of him, a few cars stalling at the curbside. It wasn’t hard to find Phil though, as he was leaning against the hood of a silver sedan at the front of the pack, facing away from Dan. Dan rucked his bags higher up his shoulders and headed towards his boy. 

“Phil,” he called when he was only a cars length away, the slight excited whine in his voice making the L in Phil’s name sound more like a W. He couldn’t help it, he had so many feelings reeling in his chest and he just _missed Phil._ Maybe they were a bit codependent after all. Dan pushed the thought away as he quickened his pace, Phil turning around at the sound of his voice. 

He looked beautiful in this light. _He always_ looked beautiful _,_ but something about the illumination from the shitty airport lights hit his features perfectly. He looked a bit paler than usual - which was a feat for Phil - and his cheekbones were highlighted in the light, looking sharp as ever. His glasses threatened to slide down his nose as his face brightened, lips pulling into a toothy grin upon seeing Dan. He was beautiful. Honestly. Dan thought, if anyone, _Phil_ was most fitted to be a model. _Well_ , Dan shook his head at his boyfriend as he wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck, except for one thing. 

He hugged his dumb idiot boyfriend back, choosing to not comment aloud on the bright yellow emoji printed pajamas he had on the bottom half of his body. No, he would just judge them in his own head, too enveloped in the loving feeling of being so wrapped up in Phil again that he couldn’t bring himself to tease him. Phil, the man he had realized he was head over heels in love with, was unfortunately the same man who paired emoji pajamas with that ugly green coat of his and went out in public in them. 

_I guess they’re right when they say opposites attract,_ Dan thought of all of Phil’s various ugly Christmas getups. But, you know, maybe he didn’t really hate them. He could easily pull so many different designer outfits for Phil, ones that were Dan approved, but he wouldn’t dare. He loved this Phil. And he loved elf Phil. And he _really_ loved the emoji pajama, ugly coat Phil that was currently squeezing around his shoulders and humming “ _I_ _missed you”_ s and _“I’m so glad you’re here”_ s into Dan’s hair. 

“I missed you too,” Dan chuckled, pulling away to press a kiss to Phil’s cheek. He wanted to press about a million more, but it was _freezing_ and there were a handful of people milling about, so he left it at that, savoring the way Phil’s cheek darkened in a blush when he pulled away. “ _God,_ I missed you.”

Phil squeezed him one last time before letting go, running his hands down Dan’s arms to squeeze - once, twice, three times - at his hands. “It’s cold, let’s get you home.” 

Dan felt the words in his chest, he felt them hard. And he hoped Phil could see from the look he gave him that he _was_ home. At least, he was now. 

Phil took Dan’s duffle bag from him and tossed it in the backseat of the sedan, Dan placing his tote bag next to it, before the two of them split to open the doors on opposite sides of the car. Dan hopped in the passenger seat, clicking his seat belt on, but quirked a brow when he realized Phil was still outside of the car, stalling by the open driver’s side door. 

“You good?” he hummed, leaning across the center console. Phil bent down, ducking his head into the car, an anxious look on his face. He was definitely _not_ good. Dan wanted to smooth out the crease between Phil’s brows, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to reach. So he pouted instead as Phil bit at his lip. 

“You can drive, right?” Phil asked in a small voice. Dan hummed, nodding his head. Phil let out a sigh of relief, “Will you?” Dan noticed that Phil’s hand was shaking where it was gripping the side of the car. “Please?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Dan quickly agreed in a soft voice, clicking his seatbelt off and stepping out of the car, switching places with Phil. 

“How did you even make it here?” Dan questioned, no judgement in his voice, once they were both sat in the car, doors closed, belts buckled in, Phil less shaky. 

Phil sighed, running a hand through his messily pushed back hair, “I don’t know,” he chuckled sadly, “I’m such a bad driver, I don’t even know why my parents let me take the car. Everyone else had wine with dinner though - Oh! I saved you a plate by the way! But yeah, I was the only one who hadn’t been drinking and it took me, like, twice as long to get here because I was driving so slow...It is _not_ like getting back on a bike! I don’t know why anyone says that!” Phil spoke with his hands, flinging them around in the small cabin of the car. “Anyways,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “do not tattle on me if you see that big dent in the hood of the car…” 

“Phiil,” Dan rolled his eyes, not knowing how he got cosmically paired up with the second biggest idiot in the world - the first being himself. 

“I didn’t maim anyone!” Phil held his hands up in defense and Dan couldn’t help but laugh, “It’s just better you drive or I will probably have another panic attack.” 

“Oh, Phil,” Dan reached over to squeeze at his knee, “Don’t worry about anything but leading me the way back home.” 

Phil nodded and told Dan how to get out of the airport lot. Dan took the car out of park, quickly adjusting the rear view as he pulled out of the airport - not commenting about how on earth it would’ve been possible for Phil, a man of his same exact stature, to see anything of value out of where it was positioned at before. He bit his tongue, he’s been through enough. Dan glanced at Phil in the passenger seat, he won’t tease him for it now. Later though, absolutely. This would be the perfect embarrassing story to hold over Phil’s head a few weeks from now. Dan smiled, returning his hand that wasn’t on the wheel to Phil’s knee, squeezing once and leaving it there as he followed Phil’s directions. 

Phil chatted about his holiday so far, catching Dan up on all the family stories as they drove. And Dan caught Phil up on what he was up to over the past few days as well - which wasn’t much, but Phil seemed just as enthusiastic hearing about the anime Dan watched in full and the bubbles Norman blew at him, as Dan did about hearing all the cool hiking and baking stories Phil had. Phil would cut them off every so often to fire off a direction, and even though it was dark out, Dan was blown away by how beautiful their surroundings were. He tried not to let his mind go there, to not kick himself for not going with Phil from the get go. He was there now, it was okay, he needed to live in the moment. 

“You know, I’ve never been to the Isle of Man before,” Dan hummed during a lull in their conversation. 

“Really?” Dan could see Phil turning his head to look at him out of the corner of his eye. “We’ll probably go on a Christmas walk tomorrow, Dan, it’s _so_ beautiful.” He put his hand over Dan’s that was on his knee and squeezed, Dan squeezed his knee back. 

“I can’t wait.” 

“I’m so happy you’re here.” Dan didn’t have to look to know what the smile on Phil’s face looked like as he said it, he knew, he could hear it in his voice. 

Eventually, they pulled up to a house, Phil declaring they had arrived with an excited clap of his hands. Dan pulled into the drive of a moderately-sized brick cottage that was tucked into the side of a small hill, turning off the engine and admiring what he could with the dark sky above them. The house was washed in a soft glow from the fairy lights that lined its roof. Warm light glowed from many of the windows of the house, all of the curtains pulled closed - save a large bay window on the first floor, through which Dan could see nothing beyond a large lit up Christmas tree. 

“Come on,” Phil reached over to squeeze at Dan’s thigh, unbuckling his seatbelt before pulling away to open his own door. By the time Dan had stepped out himself, Phil had retrieved Dan’s bags from the back of the car, walking around it to stand next to him.

The air was even saltier here, Dan noted, risking the wheezy cough that rumbled through his chest to breathe it in deeply. He turned away from the house, shutting the car door, and squinting his eyes as he looked around - trying to force them to adjust to the darkness around them. They had to be extremely close to the sea, it felt like it, smelled like it, he thought he could hear it, but Dan couldn’t quite see the sea as he squinted into the distance. He gasped as he realized what the darkness meant, and shot his head straight up, eyes widening at the sky. 

“I don’t remember the last time I saw this many stars,” he whispered, in awe. Phil, who had been silently standing next to Dan, hummed, bumping his shoulder against Dan’s. 

“No light pollution here,” Phil matched his hushed tone. Dan traced the constellations he could pick out with his eyes, and then pulled them away, turning his head to look at Phil. Phil, who had been looking right at him. Dan was starting to forget a time when his heart _didn’t_ feel like this. Phil’s smile widened and Dan leaned into his shoulder to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He giggled against Dan’s mouth, not letting him pull away until he got a proper kiss. Dan, of course, obliged. 

“I love you,” Dan declared once their lips parted. In that moment he was sure that the only thing he _wasn’t_ sure about was why he was previously keeping it to himself. He should’ve shouted it from the rooftops the second he realized it. But it did feel more tender, more real, being hummed into the salty sea breeze - carried over the cliffs and out into the ocean, instead of being swallowed into the cacophony of the city’s soundtrack. 

Phil grinned, Dan was grateful for the soft light coming from the house that allowed him to see the corners of his eyes crinkle as his face absolutely lit up. It settled on a lopsided grin, tongue poking through teeth as Phil hummed a cheeky, “I know.” 

_I know,_ Dan repeated in his brain. He pulled back to give Phil a _look_. But Phil’s smile never faded, stepping forward as Dan leaned back, not letting Dan get any distance between them. He gently dropped Dan’s duffle bag so he could run both his hands up and down Dan’s arms. Dan couldn’t help but lean into the contact, feeling warm and safe under Phil’s touch. 

Phil leaned forward, resting his forehead against Dan’s, “And _you_ know that _I_ love you,” he said matter-of-factly. He pulled away, just an inch, and stretched up a bit on the balls of his feet to kiss Dan’s forehead. Dan closed his eyes with the touch, feeling the hum that was vibrating from Phil’s throat - through his lips and to Dan’s forehead - resonate throughout his bones. 

“I hate you,” Dan’s voice couldn’t be more fond, and Phil chuckled against Dan’s skin before pulling away and dropping back down flat on his feet. A smug grin was plastered on his face as he looked Dan in the eye. 

“I hate you too,” he scrunched up his nose, and Dan shook Phil’s hand off his arm to shove at his shoulder. They both erupted into giggles, and if there _were_ any people around, they would’ve looked like right idiots - doubled over in laughter, in the freezing cold, affectionately swatting at each other as they laughed. 

“We should go inside,” Phil finally got out after they had collected themselves and stopped laughing. 

“Yeah, probably,” Dan rubbed his hands together, as if that would warm them, and then leaned down to grab his duffle bag off the ground. Phil still had his other bag hanging from his shoulder, and Dan took his hand as they walked up the drive towards the house. Phil swung their hands between them as they walked and Dan felt so overwhelmingly happy, he almost forgot to feel anxious about meeting Phil’s family. 

_Almost._ As they approached the front door, Dan could make out what sounded like muffled singing and music, and he became hyper-aware of the fact that he was about to meet new people for the first time. Not only were they new people, they were _Phil’s_ people. He couldn’t help but feel intimidated. He started to worry if his hair was still in place (it probably wasn’t, but when is it ever?), or if his outfit was good enough (of course it was), or if his face was puffy from travel (come on, Dan…). He felt Phil squeeze his hand, but he didn’t squeeze back, biting at his bottom lip in worry instead. When they got to the doorstep, he let go of Phil’s hand, instead bringing his hand up to run through his hair, then bite at his thumbnail. 

“Dan, no,” Phil said gently next to him, stalling from opening the door to turn to fully face Dan. He pulled Dan’s hand from his mouth, and Dan let out a low whine. Phil frowned, “Don’t be so nervous.” 

“Psht,” Dan brushed him off. “I’m not nervous,” he lied through his teeth. He wasn’t sure why, he knew Phil could see right through him. Maybe he thought that if he said it aloud, it would make it true...or something like that. 

Phil squeezed Dan’s hand, “Yes, you are.” Dan opened his mouth to protest but Phil cut him off, “There’s no reason for you to be nervous. You’re my person and I love you.” Dan’s breath hitched at Phil’s words, _definitely not used to that yet_. Especially so casually, with such blatant certainty in his voice. “And my family is going to love you. They’re nice people,” he looked into Dan’s eyes as he spoke, his eyes darting back and forth as if they were searching for something in Dan’s. 

“And also,” Phil tapped at Dan’s shoe with his own - Dan looking down with the action, being reminded of Phil’s horrible emoji pajamas, and not being able to stop the grin on his face. “You don’t need to let go of this either,” Phil squeezed Dan’s hand and laced their fingers back together, emphasizing his point. 

Dan sighed and tapped his fingers against Phil’s knuckles, “I think it’s still hard for me,” he said truthfully. 

“That’s okay. No one expects it to not be hard.” Phil gave his hand a squeeze and went to let go, but Dan held a firm grip, shaking his head. Phil quirked a brow. 

“I want to hold your hand,” the corner of Dan’s mouth tugged up. Phil still looked in his eyes like he was looking for the answer to an unasked question. “It’s just a lot, isn’t it?” Dan huffed out a laugh, looking down at their feet and kicking his toe into the concrete steps. “Christmas and your family and _you_.” Dan tried to take a calming breath, attempting to exhale his worries. 

“A lot doesn’t have to be bad,” Phil rubbed his thumb against Dan’s hand. “I understand though, bit scary isn’t it?” 

Dan looked back up at Phil, noting how his eyes said even more than his words. He nodded, “Bit scary.” He bit his lip, internally cursing himself for always making his chapped lips worse, but as he looked at Phil he felt his nerves dissipate. 

A wide grin slowly made its way onto his face, Phil narrowed his eyes in question. “I have you though. You make it less scary,” Dan said confidently. 

Phil’s face brightened, matching Dan’s grin. He leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Dan’s mouth, humming into it. “You’re the scariest thing in the world, Dan,” he said against his mouth when they parted, the teasing tone in his voice evident. 

Dan barked out a laugh, “Actually, shut up,” he kissed Phil again for good measure. 

“Loser.”

“Nerd.” 

“Weirdo.”

Dan rolled his eyes, “ _God,_ why are we still standing out here?” Phil gave Dan a look the second the words left his mouth, and Dan just stuck his tongue out at him. The two of them burst into laughter. 

“Okay,” Phil wheezed, “Come on.” 

Dan squeezed Phil's hand, and Phil squeezed back as they turned towards the door. Dan didn’t drop Phil’s hand this time, as Phil reached for the doorknob and pushed open the front door. 

The house was warm. It smelled of home cooked food,, warm spices, and fir trees. The second Phil had opened the door a crack, the sound of music was no longer muffled. Now louder, filling Dan’s ears, was the rich notes of a piano and a soft woman’s voice singing “Let It Snow."

Phil took Dan’s bag from him and placed them both on the stairs that were directly across from the door. He smiled, a big lopsided grin, when he turned back to Dan. Dan, who was a bit frozen in place, taking in all the warmth he felt - both physically and emotionally. He stepped forward and unzipped Dan’s parka for him, shrugging it off Dan’s shoulders, and hung it on a hook on the wall beside him where four other coats sat. They moved in silence, Dan’s head was already too loud and Phil could tell, only needing to communicate with a few glances and soft touches. Dan kicked off his shoes as Phil took his own coat off, revealing that he had paired the yellow emoji pajamas with a bright red sweater that had a green ribbon design criss-crossing around his torso, a large bow in the middle of his chest. 

Dan rolled his eyes at how ridiculous he looked as Phil turned to hang his coat over Dan’s, as there were only five hooks on the wall. “You’ve got this whole...ketchup and mustard thing going on,” Dan huffed out a laugh when Phil turned back towards him. Phil frowned, looking down at himself as if he had forgotten what he was wearing. His cheeks darkened and he crossed his arms in defiance. 

“I’m a present,” Phil pouted, turning his chin up towards Dan. 

Dan whistled as he looked Phil up and down, “That you are.” Phil just giggled and let a hand swat at Dan’s bum as he passed by him, pausing at the door to their left with the same hand outstretched for Dan’s. Phil _was_ right - Dan shook his head and stepped forward to take Phil’s hand - he was a gift, in more ways than one. 

Phil swung the door open and the piano and chatter became even louder. Dan was met with such a picture perfect definition of a family Christmas that he almost felt like he could cry. They had stepped into a lounge, fully decked out for the holiday. Dan’s socked feet squished into a soft, plush carpet as they stepped through the doorway. The big tree that Dan saw from outside was _right there_ to his left, it was tall and round and filled to the brim with baubles. Stacks of presents sat underneath it, all different colors, shapes, and sizes. There was a fireplace in the exposed brick wall across from them, a small fire popping and crackling within it, and six stockings hung from the mantle above it. 

To the right of the fireplace sat a light mahogany upright piano, pushed up against the brick wall. A petite redhead was sitting at the stool, playing the piano with her back to them. Dan noted she was wearing the same sweater as Phil. She, at least, had the decency to pair it with matching dark green joggers though, unlike _someone_. A tall, lanky man sat sideways on the piano bench, facing her with a huge grin on his face as they sang together. Even from the two seconds he spent looking at them, the love and adoration there was palpable. 

In the middle of the room was a matching set of two red tartan wingback chairs and a red tartan couch, framing a large, but low to the ground, coffee table. A half finished jigsaw puzzle, of what looked to be a picture of puppies in a basket, was on the table. In any other setting, the couches should have been garishly ugly, but it only felt cozy and homey. The whole room felt like something out of a cheesy movie set in a ski lodge. But it definitely didn’t feel like a set, or cheesy at all, it felt like a well-loved home. Dan was feeling so much, he couldn’t pinpoint just one feeling to settle on. So he just stood there, a bit awestruck, holding onto Phil’s hand like a lifeline as everyone in the room turned to look at them once they crossed the threshold of the room. 

“Phil! Dan!” A small, older woman popped up from where she was lounging on one of the plush chairs in front of the fireplace - Dan recognized her as Phil’s mum, Kath herself. 

“We didn’t hear you come in.” Phil’s dad, dan recognizes from the many pictures on Phil’s Instagram, got up from the couch as well, and Dan briefly noted that the two of them were _also_ wearing the same sweater as Phil. Before Dan could even assess that observation, or register what was happening, the room was full of chatter, and there were multiple people surrounding him and Phil. 

And, _oh,_ there were warm, gentle arms wrapping around his waist. Dan blinked, in an effort to pull himself back into reality, and tilted his head to see Phil’s mum enveloping him in a hug. He almost felt like his heart could crack into a million pieces, but it didn’t. For a moment, one of his arms just hung awkwardly at his side, the other still connected to Phil’s hand, as he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. But he quickly leaned into the warm embrace, dropping Phil’s hand to hug her back. 

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, dear,” she said against Dan’s chest. 

“Mu-um,” Phil whined from somewhere next to Dan, but Dan was too busy enjoying a real, comforting _mum hug_ to be bothered to turn his head to look at him. “I told you guys not to smother him,” he scolded. 

“No, no. It’s okay. Please smother me,” Dan laughed, the sound reverberating through the room with the genuine happiness that he felt. A few other chuckles filled the room, and Phil’s mum gave Dan one last firm squeeze before she let go. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Dan kicked up the charm, his desperate need to impress these people peeking back through the cloud of warmth that had washed over him. “And you, sir,” Dan held his hand out towards Phil’s dad who had come up next to his mum, making sure to make eye contact and remember everything else a _polite young man_ would do. But Phil’s dad didn’t take his hand, instead he wrapped his arms around Dan as well, patting twice at Dan’s back. 

“We’re huggers, we Lesters.” he chuckled, his voice an aged, more northern copy of Phil’s. 

“I’m guessing Phil didn’t warn you of that, though,” another voice - Phil’s brother Martyn, Dan presumes - said from the other side of the room as Phil’s dad let go of Dan. Phil, of course, was instantly bickering back at his brother. 

Dan couldn’t help the grin on his face, his cheeks actually ached but he didn’t care. He looked at Phil next to him, who was making a face at his brother, and his smile got impossibly wider. As if Phil could sense Dan’s eyes on him, he turned his head to meet his eye and gave him a concerned look, wordlessly asking if he was okay, if it was too much. Dan didn’t let the smile drop from his face, it _was_ too much, but in the best way. 

“He didn’t,” Dan directed towards Phil’s brother in response, then looked back at Phil and his parents where they were all almost huddled surrounding him by the door, “But I am definitely not complaining.” 

“Good! Is there room for one more then?” a soft voice said from behind Phil’s parents, the short redhead popping between them and all but slamming into Dan. A soft " _oof"_ left his mouth as they made contact, her stretching up on her tippy-toes to wrap her arms around Dan’s neck. Now, more prepared for these ambush hugs, Dan wrapped an arm around her shoulder as she gave him a big squeeze. “Hi Dan,” she smiled up at him once she let him go, _now_ extending a hand out for him to shake, “I’m Cornelia.” Her small hand was absolutely engulfed in his as they shook, but her grip was five times as firm as his. 

“Nice to meet you, Cornelia,” Dan smiled back. 

At the same time, Phil’s brother was pushing himself up off the piano bench with a, “Fine, fine, I’ll get up.” He softly punched at Phil’s shoulder before scooting Cornelia out of the way to give Dan one of those, what could only be described as straight guy bro hugs, where he just patted at Dan’s shoulder briefly before stepping back. “Glad you could make it, brother, hopefully this means Phil will stop talking my ear off about ‘ya,” he said into Dan’s ear before he stepped away, not in any sort of hushed tone at all, earning a whining protest from Phil. Dan, for once, ignored the opportunity to tease Phil to let what Martyn said settle in his brain, and his chest. One, _did he really just call me brother, how cool is this guy?_ And two, _Phil has been talking about me?_ Dan was in dangerous double dimple territory. He couldn’t analyze anything other than the fact that he felt _so_ happy and warm. So he didn’t. 

“Thank you,” Dan looked between the four people that stood in front of him, “all of you for having me. It means a lot.” He felt Phil lean into his shoulder next to him, and then Phil’s hand was grabbing at his again, squeezing it tight. Dan squeezed back. 

“We’re happy to have you,” Phil’s mum smiled at him as the rest of the crowd hummed in agreement and slowly made their way back to what they were up to before Dan and Phil came in. Phil’s dad lounging back on the couch, Martyn padding out of the room with two empty glasses of wine, Cornelia back on the piano bench starting up another soft tune. “It means a lot to us too,” she added in a softer voice, Dan noted how the crinkles at the corners of his eyes looked _just_ like Phil’s. Phil made a noise in his throat at the words and her and Phil shared a knowing look, Phil narrowing his eyes in contest ever so slightly. Dan wasn’t quite sure what that was about. She reached up to pinch at Phil’s cheek, Phil’s face turning a deep red - which Dan thought was _incredibly cute_ \- with the touch, and then sauntered back off to the couch to sit with her husband. 

“Oh!” Dan exclaimed, pulling the car keys out of the pocket of his track pants, “Who do these belong to, because _god save us all_ if I’m giving them back to Phil.” Phil groaned beside him as he dangled the keys in the air, and Phil’s dad turned around to lean against the back of the couch. 

“I shouldn’t have let him take it out, should I?” Phil’s dad shook his head and Dan padded over to place the keys in his hand. 

“Probably not,” Dan smiled softly. “Not if that new dent in the hood has anything to say about it,” he added and Phil’s dad grimaced, his mum chuckling next to him. 

“Hey!” Phil protested, stepping forward to push at Dan’s shoulder, “I thought I could trust you.” 

“No secrets are safe when you’re a criminal committing hit and runs,” Dan shoved back and Martyn hooted from the other room. 

“It was only a street lamp!” Phil frowned at his feet. 

“A _what_?!” Phil’s mum leaned around to look her son in the eye. The two of them shared some sort of look, then burst into laughter - Phil promising to send them money for the repair when they collected themselves, and his parents just brushing him off with a shake of the head and a shared smile. 

“Are you hungry?” Phil leaned into Dan’s side, his hushed tone still heard over the increasing volume of Cornelia’s piano playing. Dan nodded his head and Phil tugged him by the hand through the lounge, and then through the door on the other end of the room that opened up into a large kitchen. The homey winter lodge feel seeped into this room as well. All of the furnishings were a light, knotty wood. The curtains on the window by the sink, and the runner on the large circular table in the corner, were the same tartan pattern as the seating in the other room. The smell of warm spices and food was strongest here, obviously, and Dan placed the large pot of simmering spices and oranges that was on the stove as the main culprit. 

“ _J_ _esus_ , it’s like a Christmas movie in this house,” Dan muttered, a bit stunned, a lot in awe. Phil giggled next to him and let go of his hand to cross the room and open the fridge. 

“Nothing’s better than Christmas on the Isle,” Martyn replied from where he was leaning against the counter, refilling wine glasses. 

“Mum and Dad keep this place so cozy,” Phil hummed as he retrieved two plates wrapped in cling film from the fridge, “it almost fills the hole in my heart from them selling our house.” 

Martyn groaned, “Phil that place was _so_ haunted, good riddance.” 

“I miss it!” 

“You’re the only one.” 

Phil stuck his tongue out at Martyn as he passed him to get to the microwave. Martyn turned towards Dan, holding the bottle of wine out towards him, “Fancy a glass?” 

“Oh, um, yeah,” Dan turned his attention towards him, “thank you.” Martyn gave him a head nod and opened the cabinet in front of him to pull out another wine glass. 

“Phil, do yo-”

“Mar, do they have rosé? Dan likes rosé.” Phil interrupted Martyn from behind the microwave door, popping a plate inside. 

“Red is good,” Dan insisted, but Martyn was already in the fridge, pulling out a bottle of rosé, shaking it in his hand and waggling his brows - not unlike a teenager would at a house party. He poured Dan a glass and handed it off before picking up the other two glasses of wine. 

Martyn gave Phil a pointed look as he headed out of the kitchen, “You fend for yourself since you’re so rude.” He then turned to Dan, “We hid Mum’s mince pies from Phil on the top shelf in there,” he pointed towards a cabinet, “he would’ve eaten them all otherwise.” He laughed and Dan couldn’t help but snort as well. 

“Thank you for saving Christmas,” Dan held a hand to his heart, spurring on Martyn’s laughter. Phil’s offended “ _hey”_ s from across the room were drowned out by the two of them. Martyn gave Dan one last look - Dan wasn’t quite sure what _that_ meant - then was out of the kitchen, leaving Dan and Phil alone. Phil carried the two, now steaming plates to the dining table and Dan, obviously, made a beeline for the cabinet with the mince pies. He opened the cabinet and instantly spotted the glass container full of little mince pies. 

“You really would’ve eaten all of these, wouldn’t you?” Dan said, pretending to be scandalized, as he dropped the container and his wine glass on the table, and took the seat right next to Phil. “The _only_ reason I came up here!” 

Phil scooted his chair closer once Dan sat down, pressing their legs together, “So you’re just here for the pies?” he pushed his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. Dan held a hand up to poke at Phil’s lip, and the corner of his mouth curved up ever so slightly, but he was holding his ground. 

“Nah, I’m interested in something much sweeter,” Dan hummed and leaned forward to grab Phil’s lip between his teeth. Phil squeaked and Dan’s heart soared. He only released Phil’s lip to kiss him properly, moving his hand to grab at the back of Phil’s head. Dan massaged at the short hair there as Phil hummed into his mouth. He leaned into Dan’s touch, then pushed forward to fully lean into Dan, licking at his bottom lip, and pushing his hand up Dan’s thigh. 

Dan let it go on for a few more minutes, probably more than he should have, before letting go of his hold on the back of Phil’s neck and pulling away. He leaned back in once to press a chaste kiss to a now whining Phil’s mouth, then pulled away again completely. 

“We cannot make out in your parent’s kitchen,” Dan answered Phil’s whines and pouting face. He scooted his chair away from Phil’s, just the tiniest amount, to emphasize his point. 

Phil scooted his chair back so it was pressed flushed to Dan’s again, Dan rolled his eyes. “Who said?” 

“I said.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“Who am I, if not a tease?” Dan replied, grabbing his glass of wine and swirling it in his hand, looking as if he was in deep philosophical thought. Phil giggled next to him, shoving at his shoulder with a gentle hand. Dan muttered something about _boyfriend abuse_ as Phil snatched the wine from Dan before he could even retaliate, taking a large sip as if it were his own. 

And that’s how they shared Christmas Eve dinner. Reheated leftovers of Kath’s earlier feast that was still better than any food Dan has had in any recent number of years, as laughter and music from the other room serenaded them. Sure, he tried to cook for himself as often as he could, but he couldn’t recreate a mum’s real home cooked dinner even if he tried. They shared Dan’s glass of wine - although Dan never agreed to those terms - and giggled and played with each other, like children who would’ve gotten scolded by their parents for acting in such a way at the table. 

When they had finished their dinner, Dan finally tried one of Phil’s mum's mince pies. Phil watched him expectantly as he bit into one, moaning as the flavors hit his tongue. 

“I take it you agree with my ranking,” Phil bumped his shoulder against Dan’s before popping one into his own mouth. 

“ _God,_ ” Dan groaned in response, closing his eyes to chew and savor the moment. “Fuck, yes ten all the way.” He opened his eyes to see Phil rolling his eyes at him. 

“I can’t take you anywhere,” he shook his head, but the dark look in his eyes and the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth said otherwise. 

“Mm,” Dan picked up another pie and ate it in one go, “I could eat like, a hundred of these.” 

Phil laughed, “Now you get why my family hid them from me.” 

“Absolutely,” Dan grabbed the lid of the container and smacked Phil’s outstretched hand with it, stopping him from taking another pie. “You promised you would take some home for me,” he secured the lid on the container and got up to put it back in the cabinet they came from - Phil now knowing the hiding spot - “you will be keeping that promise.” 

“Oh will I?” Phil contested. Dan padded back over to where he was sat and ran a hand through Phil’s hair from behind his chair. Phil hummed, leaning into the touch, head lolling back to look at Dan. Dan leaned down to kiss Phil’s forehead, with so much love in his chest he felt like he could burst. He needed to channel that energy somewhere. 

“Can I take these?” He let go of Phil’s hair to grab at the empty plates and utensils on the table. Phil nodded a soft “ _yeah_ ” and directed him towards the dishwasher as he collected the plates, getting up with a stretch and a yawn to follow after Dan. As Dan was slotting the plates into the dishwasher, Phil retrieving the bottle of rosé to refill their shared glass and now another new glass, Phil’s mum walked into the room with her own empty glasses. 

“Hi loves,” she smiled at them as she walked over to Dan, pulling out the top rack to place her glasses in the dishwasher. Dan didn’t think he could trust his own voice from cracking with the way he was feeling from the soft, affectionate greeting, so he just smiled and gently closed the dishwasher after her. 

“Mum, can we make the biscuits for Santa now that Dan’s here?” Phil asked as he passed her to put the bottle of wine back in the fridge. Dan looked over at the open cabinet door where he had just taken out a wine glass. He rolled his eyes, walking over to close it, and noticed Kath was giving him a knowing look when he turned back around. She shook her head with a smile on her face, then turned to Phil. 

“Honey, why don’t you go help your father with his puzzle, he keeps yelling at the samoyed because it has too many of the same white pieces that he can’t figure out.” She laughed, and Dan giggled as well, _absolutely not_ thinking about how Phil would _definitely_ act the same exact way. Guess it has to come from somewhere, huh? 

Phil pouted and his mum tutted at him, “Dan and I have the biscuits sorted, don’t we Dan? You can’t keep him all to yourself,” she patted Phil’s arm when he pouted. She looked over at Dan and smiled, lifting her eyebrows to get him to comply. Dan smiled, to be polite, but also to will away the slight anxiety that bubbled up when he thought about Phil leaving him alone with his mum. The look seemed to work though, because when he agreed and Phil studied his face to see if he was comfortable with it, he handed Dan his glass of wine with a passing kiss on the cheek and left the room with his own. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to interrogate you dear, I just can only take so much of _both_ of my sons and their chaos in the kitchen. Your boy has an affinity for opening every single cabinet door and never closes them - which I see you’ve already learned.” she added with a chuckle and Dan nodded his head, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “The other one is always trying to add strange things to my recipes,” she shook her head in disbelief and started to pull various baking ingredients out onto the counter. “Weird lot, them two, the other day Martyn tried to add miso paste to my chocolate chip cookies. I don’t know what’s wrong with them,” she grinned to herself as she pulled out a large binder, opening it and motioning for Dan to come over. 

“I wonder that about Phil everyday,” Dan quipped, a smile on his face as well. He didn’t even have to worry about it coming across the wrong way, or for her to not realize it was just fond teasing, as she easily laughed along with him. He stepped up next to her, leaning against the counter as she flipped through what seemed to be a bunch of printed out recipes. “I saw he was being a nuisance with you earlier with the mince pies on Instagram, which by the way, best mince pie I’ve ever had. And I’m not just saying that, Phil and I have been eating our way through London via mince pies to rank them all.” 

Phil’s mum smiled up at him, “I know, Phil was telling me all about it.” 

“Oh,” Dan blushed, looking down at the counter, gently tapping his fingers against the surface. He wasn’t sure why he felt so uncomfortable about the thought of people talking about him when he wasn’t there or aware of it. Which, _yeah,_ that sounds ridiculous coming from someone whose job is to put himself out there to be talked about by complete strangers, but he couldn’t help it. And this was Phil. It wasn’t someone speculating or gossiping about him, it was Phil telling his mum about the sweet things they shared. It shouldn’t make him feel uncomfortable, but it did. Mostly because he had no idea what else Phil had told them about - he remembered what Martyn said earlier and bit at his lip. 

He felt Kath’s small hand on his arm and he pulled his eyes from where he was tapping at the counter to her face. “You’re like him, aren’t you?” She smiled at him, it was warm, and her eyes crinkled. He quirked a brow, not sure what she meant. “Private. Careful about what you share with other people,” she explained and Dan’s eyes bugged out of his head a little. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled at how on the nose she was. “It's weird, considering I have such a public job, but yeah I’m pretty private around people I don’t know...” he chewed at his lip for a moment, “Sorry, no offense to you at all. It just took me off guard, hearing that.” He looked down at her with apologetic eyes. 

Phil’s mum squeezed at his arm then let it go, “None taken, honey. You know, we have a hard enough time getting Phil to tell us anything about his life above the surface level,” she laughed, “This is the first time in a long, long time that Phil has come home talking about anyone other than that fish of his,” she shook her head with a bemused look on her face. Dan couldn’t help but laugh with her. _God_ , he loved Phil. His weird, fish dad boyfriend. 

“It took us off guard, too. Don’t worry though, I don’t think he went spilling all of your secrets,” she added with a wink, “Just a lot of ‘ _Dan and I’_ this and ‘ _me and Dan’_ that. That child came home saying ‘ _we, we, we’_ so much I thought he had taken up a French class.” 

At that, Dan couldn’t help but go full hyena laugh, bracing himself against the counter with a flat palm on its surface, wheezing as Kath chuckled with him. Through the laughter, he filed away the thought to analyze when exactly their _I’s_ became _We’s_. 

“I see he gets the cheesy jokes from you,” he said when he caught his breath, “I love that about him.” He smiled down at her, letting all the fondness he felt in his heart seep onto his face. 

A wide, knowing grin spread across Kath’s face, and Dan could tell by the expression that Phil definitely hadn’t disclosed as much. It made his nerves feel a bit better, more secure in her words that Phil really didn’t disclose _all_ his secrets. It’s not like it mattered, he thought, it wouldn’t have bothered him too much if Phil _had_ told them - especially since it’s not like he asked him _not_ to or anything. But he felt lighter, knowing he wasn’t being tip-toed around, like how some people get (not Phil, thankfully) when they find out he hasn’t spoken to his family in five years. It was a lot for him to even be here, celebrating Christmas for the first time in just as many years, he didn’t think he could do it if he was constantly being looked at with the pitying looks from sad eyes that he would always get from other people. 

The look Phil’s mum was giving him was the exact opposite of that, though, as she reached up a hand to pat at his elbow again. “I thought as much, love.” Dan blushed at her words and they shared a knowing smile. Dan wondered if somehow _all_ the Lesters - and Dan, apparently - had brains that operated at the same frequency, being able to read each other’s minds as easily as him and Phil seemed to. 

“He’s happier, I can tell. I worry a lot, that’s what mothers do,” she rested her hand on top of Dan’s on the counter, small fingers squeezing around much larger ones. “But I think he’s found something good, do you?” 

Dan smiled down at the counter, huffing out a laugh, “The _best._ More than good,” he looked up at Kath. 

She let out a content sigh, then turned back to her recipe book, “I’m glad.” Dan watched as she flipped a few pages, then settled on one, smoothing her hand down the page. “We should probably get on with these biscuits, shouldn’t we? I promise I didn’t corner you in here for a deep chat, but that somehow always happens in my kitchen, you’ll catch on to that soon.” 

She clapped her hands and turned the recipe binder towards Dan, “Do these look good? I’ve never made them before, but Phil mentioned you try to keep vegan so I went online and printed out the best recipe I could find.” 

Dan looked down at the printed web page recipe for vegan sugar cookies and felt a swooping feeling in his heart. Before he could even think about it, he was looking back at Phil’s mum next to him. “Can I give you another hug?” he asked in a small voice. 

She immediately held her arms out, “Of course, love, always.” Dan gave her a squeeze, willing the moisture behind his eyes to _go the fuck away_ as she rubbed at his back. A mum hug was a mum hug, even if they weren’t your mum. And in that moment, Dan realized he _really_ missed mum hugs in his life. 

When they parted and Dan had wiped at his eyes with the sleeves of his jumper - Kath graciously saying nothing about it - they finally got started on the cookies. They worked together, Dan making a large batch of dough and Phil’s mum making a large batch of icing. They chatted as they went. Phil's mum asking Dan about his job, things he liked to do, and so on. Dan giggling as she told him embarrassing stories from Phil’s childhood. He apparently really has been a weird guy his whole life, especially as a kid. Dan loved that he never fully grew out of it.

Once the cookie dough and icing were mixed, they switched stations - Kath taking over to roll out the dough and cut the shapes, and Dan coloring and separating the icing into different piping bags of every color of the rainbow. They set out a perfectly organized icing station after the cookies went into the oven, and then Dan padded into the lounge once the only thing left to do was ice the cookies. 

He felt that tug at his heart again, the one that was starting to feel like a permanent feature, as he stepped into the lounge and looked at the scene in front of him. He leaned against the doorframe to take it in. The fire was still crackling, but Cornelia’s piano playing had been replaced by a Christmas movie softly playing on the television mounted above the fireplace. Phil’s dad and brother were both sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward over the coffee table where Phil and Cornelia were sat on the floor on the other side. They looked to be playing a heated round of a card game, Phil waving his arms around with his cards in hand as Martyn and Cornelia bickered over some sort of rule technicality. Phil’s dad was just watching it unfold, with a smug smile on his face, cards in hand. 

“Am I about to witness a murder?” Dan spoke up when Phil looked like he was about to leap across the table to hit Martyn with his cards. Cornelia and Phil’s dad laughed, Martyn and Phil just looking like kids who were just caught with their hands in the cookie jar. 

“Phil’s cheating,” Martyn said casually, leaning back against the couch. 

“Am not! You are!” Phil dropped his cards on the table and crossed his arms with a pout. 

Dan shared a look with Cornelia, and that’s all he needed to know. 

“Phil stop cheating and come help ice the cookies,” Dan instructed, taking a sip of the wine in his hands. 

Phil gasped an, “I can’t believe you,” at the same time that Martyn sat up to look over at Dan and smile with a, “I like you, Phil should keep you around.” 

Dan felt that feeling swell, and absolutely preened with it. It shouldn’t be a shock, considering Phil himself made him feel so safe and accepted, but he still was surprised at how easily he felt it from the four Lesters that he had only met an hour or so before. In Dan’s experience, it shouldn’t work that way. At least, it never did for him, until he met Phil. So even though it surprised him, he had to admit it made complete sense. 

Phil’s parents decided to head up to bed, his mum placing a kiss on the cheek of each of “ _her children_ ” (her words, not Dan’s, though she really made him feel it) before they left the four of them to their own devices to finish the cookies. They all crowded into the kitchen around the decorating station that Dan and Phil’s mum had set up on the dining table. Cookies in various shapes - trees, stars, stockings, and reindeer - sat on cooling racks that were surrounded by piping bags of icing of every color and multiple different containers of sprinkles and edible glitter. Which, Dan was still _very_ unsure about...glitter definitely should not be edible.

So of course that was the first thing Phil gravitated towards, getting glitter all over his hands and face as he decorated his cookies. Martyn was much of the same disaster, his weapon of choice being swirling all of the different icing colors together in some sort of abstract mess on each of his cookies. Dan and Cornelia were a bit more traditional, both filling in their tree shaped cookies with green icing as they fell into an easy conversation about music and art. Cornelia went on to add rainbow stripes across her green tree, holding it up to Phil to show him how it was like his tree at home, and Dan’s face ached with how hard he was smiling. 

As they decorated, and eventually all covered each other in icing and glitter, they chatted and bantered back and forth. Dan finally questioned the matching sweaters, earning an eye roll from Martyn, and an explanation from Cornelia that Phil insisted on two things at Christmas: game night and that everyone in the family wears matching sweaters on Christmas Eve. Phil cheekily poked Dan in the nose with the tip of an icing bag and promised he would buy six for next year. Dan just smiled down at the reindeer cookie he was working on, _next year_ and _family_ bouncing around in his head. 

Dan was finding that he had so much more in common with these new friends than he could have ever imagined. They were all creatives, Martyn and Cornelia both leading music based careers, and he found out they even lived in London - closer to his flat than Phil’s was, at that. He really liked them, and he was excited for the plans they all were already making to hang out and visit a few art exhibits in the new year. He felt comfortable around them in a similar way he did with Phil, which was so hard for him to believe. Almost all his life, he hadn’t felt this kind of safety and comfort around other people. And now, Phil comes into his life and changes all of that, and also has a family that makes him feel the same. It was almost too good to be true, it _was_ too good to be true. Dan had to be dreaming. 

But he wasn’t dreaming. If he was dreaming he wouldn’t feel the way Phil would reach over to squeeze at his hand, or his thigh under the table, every so often. And now, as Phil leaned into Dan’s shoulder, dropping his head there, cuddling up to his side. All of the cookies were decorated, the very best ones set out on a small plate for Father Christmas, and Cornelia was buzzing about the kitchen attempting to clean all the icing off of various surfaces and each of them. She passed by Dan with a wet tea towel and dabbed at his nose, he just sleepily smiled as she did so, attempting to offer his help to clean but immediately getting brushed off. 

“You and Kath did ninety percent of the work, don’t you dare try to help,” she scolded him in a soft voice. She looked from Dan’s face to Phil’s, then scrunched up her nose. “Well actually,” she held the tea towel out to Dan, “you can help with that,” she giggled and turned to help Martyn with the mess he was cleaning once he took it. 

Dan turned his head to look at Phil’s face that was resting on Dan’s shoulder. From what he could see with the bad angle, he was absolutely covered in glitter and icing from every time he had touched his face, or wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in concentration, as he worked on what he kept calling his “ _masterpieces."_

“Phil, c’mon you have so much shit on your face,” he shrugged his shoulder up to get Phil to move, but he wouldn’t budge. Dan realized he was asleep. 

Martyn chuckled from the sink, wiping his hands off with a towel, “We were up early this morning, I’m surprised he made it this long.” To accent his point, Cornelia yawned from beside him. 

“We should turn in,” she hummed and Martyn nodded. 

“I’m glad you made it up here Dan, it’s been good getting to know the guy that’s been taking up all of my little brothers time lately,” Martyn stopped to squeeze at Dan’s shoulder as he and Cornelia made their way out of the room. Before Dan could respond, Martyn was reaching around Dan to roughly shove at Phil’s shoulder. “Wake up, old man!” he laughed and Phil sleepily pulled his head off Dan’s shoulder, blinking as he came back into reality. 

“What?” Phil mumbled, but Martyn and Cornelia were already out of the room, a soft “ _goodnight Dan”_ called over Cornelia’s shoulder. 

“Hi” Dan turned his chair to face Phil. “Sleepy?” 

“Mm,” Phil reached up to fix his glasses that were askew on his face. He only managed to smear more icing on them with the action. “Did I fall asleep?” He undermined how he just fixed his glasses, pushing them up to his forehead to rub at his eyes. _God,_ there couldn’t possibly be a cuter thing in the world than Phil Lester. 

“Yeah, I think you’ve been out for a good fifteen or so.” Dan cooed at him, “You’re covered in icing.” 

Phil groaned, “Mmm, no.” 

Dan huffed air out of his nose, “Yes, Phil, you are.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on Phil’s lips, which were - incidentally - also covered in icing. Dan licked his lips as he pulled away, tasting the transferred sugar. “Here, let me get this off of you, then we can go to bed.” 

“Mmm, bed.” Phil sleepily repeated. 

Dan smiled at his boyfriend and picked the damp tea towel back up, wiping at all the icing smears on Phil’s face. Phil hummed at the touch, low in his throat, and leaned into Dan’s hand. It was incredibly hard to make quick and efficient work of cleaning off Phil’s face when he was being _so_ cute. As he started to wake up a bit more, the small kissy-face lips he kept pursing at Dan turned into Phil fully leaning forward to press kisses all over Dan’s face. The kisses turned into giggling, which then turned into more kisses, and then more giggling. By the time Dan had gotten most of the glitter and icing off of Phil’s face, they were out of breath and both of their faces were red from more than just the laughter. 

“You’re cute,” Phil leaned forward and pressed his nose against Dan’s. Dan closed the gap to press his lips to Phil’s. 

“You’re cuter.” 

Phil pulled back to stretch in his chair, letting out a low groan as he did so. “We should probably go to bed.”

“We should.” 

And with that, Phil took Dan’s hand and lead them out of the room, flicking off the lights as they went. They both groaned in unison when they got to the stairs and remembered that they had to carry Dan’s bags up. A quick game of rock paper scissors leaving Dan with his heavier duffle bag, Phil skipping up the stairs with his much lighter tote.

“This is us,” Phil whispered, opening a door at the end of a hall that Dan knew he would need a tour of tomorrow when it wasn’t dark. They dropped Dan’s bags in the room, and Phil hovered behind him - arms wrapped around his waist, leaning against his back - as Dan dug through his duffle for his toothbrush and nighttime skincare. Once Dan had the small black bag of his toiletries, Phil led him back down the dark hallway to a bathroom, where they bumped hips and shoulders as they brushed their teeth. Phil rolled his eyes as Dan went into an abridged version of his skincare routine, but reached around him to scoop some of Dan’s, _ridiculously expensive,_ moisturizer out of the pot to slather on his own face. Dan was too tired and fond to have the heart to scold him, so he just let him, planting a minty kiss on his mouth before Phil ushered him out of the room so he could pee. 

Dan, miraculously, made his way back to their room and made quick work of tugging off his turtleneck and track pants and pulling on his oversized cat tee shirt. Once he was sat on the bed in his pjs, he realized he probably should’ve just waited outside of the bathroom for Phil. Because now he was realizing he had to go as well, but the bed was calling his name, tempting him to get under the covers. He groaned and reluctantly slid off the bed, padding back down the hall and almost slamming face first into Phil. Phil giggled and let him slide past him. 

“Don’t let the ghosts get you,” Phil whispered, in a creepy voice as he stepped backwards towards their room. 

“The ghosts? Phiiiil!” Dan whisper-whined back, then darted into the bathroom to flick the light on, his trust of the dark waning even though he knew Phil was teasing. 

He made it back to the room, scot-free, no ghost attacks to write home to. He flopped into the bed that Phil was in, covers folded down on the other side of him for Dan, earning a soft “ _oof”_ from Phil as he shook the bed on impact. Phil made quick work of wrapping himself around Dan, slotting his knees into the backs of Dan’s, and Dan pressed his cold feet against Phil’s shins. They both whined at each other, but Dan leaned his head back so Phil could kiss him goodnight, which he did. A few times actually. They fell into a silence much easier than when they usually have sleepovers though - Phil tired from his early start and hiking, Dan tired from traveling and all the social interaction with Phil’s family. 

Dan was just nodding off when he heard Phil’s soft voice in his ear, breath tickling at his neck. 

“Hey, Dan.” 

“Mm, what?” 

“Tomorrow’s Christmas.” 

Dan smiled. He didn’t think a statement like that would ever make him smile again. But it did. He pushed himself back, cuddling closer into Phil, and hummed. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Phil.” 

Phil simply kissed the side of Dan’s neck, then snuggled in closer, both of them drifting off to sleep with smiles on their faces for the exact same reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve to all who may celebrate!! And thank you so so much for reading and all your lovely comments (and 100 kudos!!) y’all have really made this month so great! I’ll see you all tomorrow :)


	25. Chapter 25

“Dan, Dan, Dan.” 

Dan grumbled, whining in the back of his throat as he was slowly pulled out of dreamland. There were arms squeezing around his middle, a tickle at his ear as his name was excitedly called over and over again. That didn’t stop him from stretching - curling his toes with a yawn - and rolling from where he was laying on his back to curl up on his side. Phil followed, tightening his arms around Dan and pulling him closer to his chest. Dan smiled, feeling warm and secure. He moved his own arms to cover Phil’s, tangling their fingers together, and humming softly as he started to drift back off to sleep. 

“Daaaaan,” Phil whispered in his ear, and Dan’s tired mind tried to ignore it. He was sleepy, he was comfortable with Phil wrapped around him, he did not want to open his eyes. 

Phil had other plans, though. He wasn’t going to let Dan go back to sleep easily, apparently, as he only squeezed him harder, repeating his name in his ear while pushing himself against him. Dan groaned again, not wanting to be woken up either way, but being even more annoyed when his half awake brain realized that Phil’s movements were clearly an attempt to _only_ wake Dan up and not _get_ _Dan up._ If any, he would prefer the latter. 

He slowly blinked his eyes open - accepting defeat as Phil rocked them back and forth, starting to kiss up Dan’s neck - and his brain also began to register where he was. Oh yeah, _Phil’s parents house._ He said a silent prayer of repentance for his previous thoughts of disapointment that Phil was not waking him up for morning sex, before wiggling in Phil’s grasp to turn on his other side. 

“Dan!” Phil said louder now, breaking through the quiet of the room. His entire face lit up once they were face to face. 

“How are you so awake?” Dan grumbled, pulling himself closer to Phil’s chest and tucking his head under his chin. The room was still fairly dark, the sun was barely poking through the sheer curtains, so it couldn’t possibly be any earlier than seven in the morning. He kissed at the bit of exposed skin above Phil’s collarbone - thanks to the stretched out neck of Phil’s well-worn Friends sleep shirt - and he felt Phil’s rumbly laugh vibrate against his lips. 

Phil pressed his lips to the top of Dan’s head, soft curls meeting soft lips. “It’s Christmas!” He explained, _as if that would explain being awake at the crack of dawn_ , and turned his head to the side to nuzzle his cheek against Dan’s hair. Dan tried to not think of the frizz he was creating, because the action really made his heart swell three sizes bigger in his chest. 

“It’s Christmas,” Dan hummed against Phil’s chest. 

Phil squeezed Dan tighter, which he wasn’t sure how that was even possible, and wiggled his hips in that cute way he does. “And it’s snowing,” Phil added, and Dan could practically see the excited look on his face from his wonderstruck tone. 

Dan couldn’t help but let the excitement flow through him as well. He’s always loved the snow. It was the one thing that happened this time of year that he couldn’t let sour his mood, it was just too calming and pretty to hate. Dan pulled back and shuffled up onto the pillow so he was nose to nose with Phil. 

“Really?” From the look in Phil’s eyes, he knew he couldn’t be messing with Dan, but Dan had a hard time believing it. The weather forecasts in London were nothing but rain, but to be fair, he obviously hadn’t been checking the weather for the Isle...but would it really be that different? 

“Yes! Look!” Phil sat up, jostling Dan from his comfortable position, and flung the covers off of them. Both actions earning a whine from Dan as he kissed any chance at going back to sleep goodbye. He couldn’t be mad though. Not when Phil was looking at him like _that_ , with absolute stars in his eyes as he grabbed at Dan’s wrist to tug him out of bed. 

“Alright, okay slow down,” Dan yawned, but let Phil pull him along anyways. They tumbled over to the window on long limbs that were not yet awake, and Phil pushed the sheer curtains to the side. Dan stepped forward with wide eyes, all but pressing his nose to the glass. Phil was right. There was a soft blanket of snow over the hills and cliffs outside. It didn’t look to be more than an inch or so, but it still washed the entire scene in front of him in white. 

Phil wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Dan’s shoulder. If it wasn’t for their close proximity, Dan probably wouldn’t have been able to hear the soft tune he was humming. Dan couldn’t place what it was, but it made the corners of his mouth tug up anyways. _God,_ he loved Phil. 

Now that the rising sun and fresh snow were washing the Isle in a soft glow, Dan could see everything he couldn’t last night. Similar cottages to the Lester’s were dotted about - a few in the hills, Dan could see one at the very top of a cliff. With the snow, it was hard to tell, but Dan could make out a point, not too far off, where the sky turned into sea. And Phil was right. It was snowing, small specks of white drifted to the ground, just a small flurry as the storm settled down. 

Phil moved his arms from Dan’s waist to squeeze at Dan’s shoulders, lifting his head to press their cheeks together. “My favorite view is when we walk this path,” Phil pressed a finger to the window and traced along a path in the distance, “up to here,” his finger stopped at one of the cliffs. “All you can see is the sea from there.”

“It looks beautiful,” Dan leaned his head against Phil’s, Phil bumping him back with a giggle. 

“It is.” Phil pulled back to kiss Dan’s cheek, and Dan flushed at the way he was looking at him. Like he was responsible for putting the stars in the sky, or uh, in this case, the snow on the ground. Dan felt that way about Phil too, even without saying it, they just knew. It was obvious. 

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Phil asked when he decided he was done pressing small kisses to the side of Dan’s face. 

“ _Now_ ?” Dan looked from Phil to glance outside, then back again. The snow was letting up, falling so softly that it would be, _for lack of a better phrasing,_ like walking in a winter wonderland. But Dan wasn’t entirely sure he was one hundred percent awake yet.

Phil shook his head up and down, a toothy grin plastered on his face. Dan quirked a brow and Phil bit his lip. “Okay, maybe after a shower and breakfast?” 

“Now you’re speaking my love language,” Dan grinned. 

Phil snorted, giving Dan’s shoulder a squeeze before stepping away to open the wardrobe. “Food?” 

Phil was tossing pants, jeans, and a Christmas sweater with a UFO beaming up presents onto the bed, so Dan followed, picking his bag up and plopping it on the bed to rifle through it. 

“No, I was thinking more you, _wet_ , in the shower,” he said nonchalantly, pulling his own black jeans, pants, striped jumper, and socks out. “But food too, I _guess_ ,” he tacked on, catching Phil’s eye to wink. 

Phil rolled his eyes, but his pale skin flushed just a bit pinker. He walked around the bed to bump his hip against Dan, “That can be arranged.” 

He picked Dan’s black and white striped sweater up off the bed and turned to give Dan puppy eyes, his bottom lip daring to jut out. _Oh no, what could it be now?_ That look only ever ended up in Dan giving into whatever Phil was asking for, so he braced himself with a fond smile and narrowed eyes. 

“It’s Christmas,” Phil batted his eyes at Dan. Dan held back a snort at how ridiculous and cute he looked. Ridiculously cute. 

“That is true…” 

“Could I…” Phil trailed off, biting his lip in thought. “Would you…” Dan quirked a brow as Phil rocked on the balls of his feet. “Would I be able to get you in a Christmas sweater?” Phil finally rushed out all at once, looking at Dan with a crease in his brows. 

Dan sighed, but it wasn’t a sad sigh, or an angry sigh. It was just a small exhale of breath, lifting an invisible weight he didn’t realize was pressing at his chest, paired with a fond smile. For some reason, not one single reason why he should say no passed through his mind. No Dan’s war against Christmas, no lamenting about his ruined aesthetic, nothing. Something did pass through his mind though. _New memories._

_Fuck it, why not?_

He stepped forward and rested a hand at the base of Phil’s neck, pulling him closer to press a kiss to the space between his brows. He felt Phil let out a sigh as well. “You can put me in one of your Christmas sweaters,” he said against Phil’s forehead. Phil made a noise in the back of his throat, bringing his own hand up to the back of Dan’s head, tugging at his hair until Dan moved his lips from his forehead to Phil’s mouth. Phil kissed him with a fervor that felt like _too much_ but also _not enough_ for this early in the morning. Dan whined when Phil pulled back quickly, letting go to skip back over to the wardrobe. 

“I have the _perfect_ one for you. It’s one of my favorites,” Phil called, head inside the closet. 

_Oh boy_ , Dan thought to himself. He was _definitely_ afraid to see a favorite Christmas sweater of Phil’s - Phil, who regularly, willingly dresses up as an elf and has referred to a suit that had mistletoe all over the bum as his ' _favorite suit'._ He braced himself for the worst. 

But when Phil emerged from the wardrobe, flinging a sweater at Dan’s head, the ball of fabric was a dark grey. Not bright green and red. As Dan caught it, no jingle bells chimed. He raised a brow as he unfolded the sweater, holding it out in front of him. He was met with a design of repeating alien emojis in red santa hats. 

“ _Huh._ ” 

“Yeah?” Phil hummed from beside him. 

“I like it.” 

Dan wished he had his phone in hand to capture the way Phil’s face lit up, smile wider than he’s ever seen it, as he realized Dan was being genuine. And he was. Dan _liked_ this Christmas sweater, he was already thinking about not giving it back to Phil. And from the look on his face, it looked like that surprised Phil more than it did Dan. 

With that, they collected their respective piles of clothes and headed down the hall to the bathroom, bickering the entire time as Phil tried to push his luck and replace Dan’s black socks with the two other red and green socks from his mismatched pair he picked out for today. They showered - if you asked, Dan would just mutter _something, something, conserving water_ \- and probably woke the rest of the house up with their giggles as they blow dried each other’s hair. Dan finally ceasing their antics after Phil was just blowing the air directly into Dan’s eyes, taking the dryer from him with a wheeze and a kiss. They finished getting ready, Phil generously dipping into Dan’s hair product - _“Phiiil, that’s for curly hair” -_ and them exchanging - probably, _definitely_ \- gross foamy kisses as they got distracted brushing their teeth. They pulled on their Christmas sweaters and Dan shot Phil a _look_ in the mirror. 

“These match, don’t they?” he side eyed Phil in the mirror. Phil, and the aliens all over Dan’s front stared back at him. 

Phil bumped his hip against Dan’s, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” the huge smirk on his face saying otherwise. 

“You’re the worst,” Dan leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder, and Phil did a double blink wink in the mirror at him. 

“You love me.” 

“I hate you.” Dan smirked at him in the mirror, then pulled away to grab his pajamas off the floor, squeezing at Phil’s bum as he stepped around him to exit the bathroom. Phil followed behind with a whine, and then chased Dan back to their room - whoever was not awoken by their incessant giggles earlier was _definitely_ awake now. 

Once their clothes were thrown in Phil’s laundry pile, Dan unplugged his phone and went back over to the window. He snapped a picture of the snowy landscape outside, the falling flurries now ceased, and threw it up on his story with no caption. He pocketed his phone and turned to Phil, who was hastily trying to make the bed. 

“Here,” Dan stepped over and pulled his duffle bag off the end of the bed, placing it on the floor so he could grab the corner of the duvet that was giving Phil issues - tugging and straightening it into place. 

“Thanks,” Phil leaned across the bed to grab his own phone off the pillows, tucking it into his pocket, and fluffing the pillows. “Why is your bag so heavy anyways, you planning on moving in?” Phil joked. 

Dan hummed, _you know_ , he didn’t really hate the sound of that. Which like, okay, that was weird. He was _definitely_ a city boy. He brushed the thought away to answer Phil, lugging his bag back onto the bed. 

“Well, you see, I couldn’t come empty handed,” he unzipped the bag and pulled out the two heavy boxes of gin and whiskey. “I felt bad,” he started, placing them on the bed and turning to grab his tote bag with the three other gifts, “if I wasn’t such an idiot I could’ve actually shopped for all of you and came here _with_ you like a normal person.” He sighed and pulled the three bags out of the tote, bouncing each handle in his hand to test the weights - they all looked identical from the outside, but Cornelia and Phil’s mum’s were significantly heavier than Phil’s from the boxes of bath bombs inside them. He put those two next to the liquor on the bed, and held Phil’s in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to get anything, Dan,” Phil walked around the bed to place a hand on his elbow. He rubbed his thumb against Dan’s skin, “You are not an idiot and you shouldn’t feel bad about anything,” he leaned forward to kiss the tip of Dan’s nose. Dan couldn’t help but blush. 

He laughed, “‘C’mon, I’m a bit of an idiot.” He fiddled with the handle of the bag, looking down at it as Phil tried to get him to look at him. 

Phil huffed out a laugh. “Not in that way,” Phil moved his hand from Dan’s arm to his jaw, making him look up. “You’re here because you want to be here. And we want you to be here, for _you_ , not for any gifts or anything else. So don’t you dare feel bad after you’ve been so brave _and_ went above and beyond to bring presents. _You_ are the only gift I, and everyone else here, needs. Yeah?” Phil stared at him with such an intensity that Dan couldn’t look away. Which meant he couldn’t stop the bit of tears that were forming in his eyes from seeping over, just a few fat drops falling down his face. Phil didn’t stop looking at him like _that_ as he moved his other hand up to wipe at Dan’s tears with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“ _God,_ I’m such a baby,” Dan sniffed, and shook his head as if to clear the wetness behind his eyes.

Phil smiled, rubbing his thumb against Dan’s cheek, “Yeah.” He giggled. 

Dan barked out a laugh and leaned into the touch, “Oh, thanks,” he rolled his eyes and another rogue tear rolled down his cheek with the movement. 

He looked from Phil, as Phil wiped at his cheek, to the pile of gifts on the bed. “It’s not stupid, is it?” Dan asked, pulling them back to serious after their jokes. “I mean, like, I just picked up a few things before going to the airport. It’s nothing really sentimental,” _except for what I got you,_ his mind added, “I just didn’t want to come here with nothing when you’ve all been so nice having me here.” He bit at his lip and looked back at Phil. 

Phil, who was grinning back at him. “They’ll love it, really, Dan.” He poked a finger into where Dan’s dimple would be, and Dan couldn’t help but smile to make it appear. “Stop overthinking, you big-hearted overachiever.” Phil pressed his thumb into Dan’s bottom lip, pulling it from where it was trapped between his teeth, and kissed him. 

Dan hummed into the kiss, feeling Phil’s sincerity. It felt like all too much, as always, and he didn’t want to start crying again so he pulled away. “Wait, did you just call my heart fat?” he gasped in mock-offense. 

Phil giggled and held a hand up to Dan’s chest, holding it over his heart. _Well, it was close to it at least_. “Thick,” Phil accentuated the K, sending both of them into a fit of laughter. 

Once they had caught their breath, leaning on each other to ride out the giggles, Dan looked down at the bag still in his hands. “Can I give you this later?” He looked up at Phil. He wasn’t sure he wanted to give it to Phil with an audience. Although he knew he could be himself around Phil’s family, Phil’s mum was right - both of them were the type of people to keep more _special_ things to themselves. 

“Whatever you’d like,” Phil smiled and Dan set the bag down on the dresser. “You actually got me something?” he bounced on his heels a bit and Dan shook his head and smiled. “I didn’t get you anything,” he added, stopping his movements and frowning. 

“You’ve already given me Christmas,” Dan supplied, surprised at how easily the words fell from his mouth. It sounded cheesy, and it didn’t sound as profound or as accurate to what Phil _really_ has given him. But by the way Phil’s lip wobbled, his eyes going glassy behind his glasses, Dan could tell it conveyed exactly what he was trying to say. 

Dan stepped forward, erasing the few inches that were left between them, and grabbed Phil’s face in his hands. “Okay, I’m going to kiss you, and it’s going to be sappy, but then we have to stop being such saps after. Okay?” He asked with determination and Phil nodded his head, a smile curling at his lips. Dan surged forward and kissed the look right off of Phil’s face. Phil matched his fervor, pushing up against him and kissing him breathless. 

They kissed until Dan started to whine in the back of his throat and Phil’s hand in his hair started to seriously mess up Dan’s perfectly styled curls. Dan pulled back, pressing one last - okay, _two_ last - kisses to Phil’s mouth, Phil smiling against his lips. 

“We’re gross.” Dan rubbed his thumb against Phil’s cheekbone before running his hand down his arm to squeeze at his hand. Phil untangled his fingers from Dan’s hair, an apologetic - but not really at all - look on his face as he did. 

“We’re the worst.” Phil agreed. They shared a knowing smile. 

“Merry Christmas, Phil,” Dan squeezed at Phil’s hand, Phil squeezed back. 

“Merry Christmas, Dan.” 

They padded down the stairs not much later, both fiending for coffee, Phil fiending for the Christmas walk - which Dan was admittedly a bit excited about as well. They carried down Dan’s gifts and Phil dug through a Christmas box in the cupboard for a few spare gift labels as Dan hovered by the tree. He inspected the decorations on the tree, and his chest felt heavy as he noted how they were the similar old, tacky family type ornaments that his family’s tree would always have. It was filled with all the clearly homemade - by smaller versions of Martyn and Phil - ornaments, delicate looking baubles that have probably existed longer than Dan, and little hanging picture frames of small children at varying stages of aging on Santa’s lap. 

Dan was holding one of those frames in his palm, to look at it closer as it hung on its branch, when Phil returned to his side with a sheet of stickers and a sharpie pen. The little boy in the picture had _bright_ orange hair and was smiling on Santa’s lap, tiny eyes crinkled in a way that was so quintessentially Phil. If it wasn’t for the eyes, the bright hair would’ve thrown Dan off, as it was closer to his brother’s than Phil’s own. But Dan knew better, Phil hid his natural hair behind layers and layers of boxed hair dye. The ginger would make an appearance, Dan had noticed, when the sunlight would hit his dark brown roots in just the right way. 

“Is this you?” Dan asked in a soft voice, and Phil leaned against his side to inspect what he was looking at. Phil groaned beside him and covered his blushing face with his hand, the sheet of sticker labels he was holding acting like a shield. 

“Don’t look at that, it’s so embarrassing,” Phil whined from behind the sheet and Dan just chuckled. He let go of the ornament, it swinging a few times as it settled back on its branch, and ran a finger over a knitted candy cane that was hanging next to it. Phil slowly lifted his hand from his face, peering out to see if the coast was clear. 

“I think its cute,” Dan smiled when Phil was no longer hiding. His face was bright red, the color even tinging the tips of his ears. “What?” A smug smile sat on Dan’s face as Phil gave him a look, “Do you want me to ask Kath to bust out the photo albums when they come down?” 

“No! No, absolutely not!” Phil got redder and Dan just laughed, pulling him into his arms so he could press kisses all over his red cheeks. Phil grumbled in his grasp, but eventually gave into Dan’s affections and stopped his embarrassed squirming in Dan’s arms. 

“Fine, I’ll have to live without cute baby Phil pictures,” Dan pulled back with an exaggerated sigh. He was lying, _of course,_ he would absolutely be asking Phil’s parents for more baby photos the second he could. The look Phil gave him back told him he knew as much.

“Will you tell me all their stories?” Dan turned and poked at one of the baubles on the tree, knowing if Phil had so many stories to tell about the decorations he brought for the tiny tree in Dan’s flat, these family ornaments would have just as many - if not more. 

Phil’s face lit up again, the soft look he gave Dan absolutely melted his heart. “I would love to. Why don’t I make us coffee, you can get those sorted,” he gestured with a nod of his head to the small pile of gifts Dan had placed in front of the tree. He handed the labels and pen to Dan, “and then I’ll spill all the Lester secrets of Christmas past.” He giggled as he lowered his voice, like there really were some deep dark secrets lurking within the tree. Dan smiled back, he was so in love. 

“M’kay,” Dan hummed and Phil pressed a kiss to his temple before turning to bounce off towards the kitchen. “Oh hey,” Dan called after him and Phil screeched to a stop, turning his head with a raised brow. “Whiskey versus gin for your dad and your brother,” Dan asked. 

Phil lowered his brow to squint an eye in thought, “Dad gin, Martyn whiskey.” 

Dan smiled, “Thank you.” 

Phil just blew a kiss at him before turning back to the kitchen. Dan snorted, but he held his hand up to catch the kiss anyways, even though Phil was already out of the room. He pressed that hand to his chest, then shook his head at his own damn self, before sitting criss-cross in front of the tree to write names on his gifts. He spent his time on it, willing his handwriting into something more readable. By the time he was nestling them under the tree in with all the other presents, Phil was padding back into the lounge.

Phil hummed a tune as he entered, causing Dan to look up from where he was fidgeting with tissue paper, and he was carrying two large mugs. Both had Christmas designs, one with a corgi sitting under a tree and the other with a cat that had a Christmas wreath around its neck. Dan made grabby hands at the cat mug once Phil approached, knowing better than to think he would ever make _Dan’s_ coffee in a corgi mug, and Phil passed it over with a huff of a laugh - sitting down next to Dan so they were sat knee to knee in front of the tree. They had their coffee - finally waking them up and lifting the caffeine withdrawal headaches that were beginning to nudge at both of their heads - and Phil began to go through all of his favorite ornaments and baubles, telling Dan the stories behind them. 

They were still on the bottom half of the tree, half full mugs of coffee, when Phil’s dad made his way downstairs. A warm " _Merry Christmas"_ from him was exchanged for a “ _Merry Christmas_ ” from Dan and a _“Just made a fresh pot”_ from Phil. 

Phil’s mug was empty, sat on the floor, and Dan was still sipping at his as they worked up the tree, now sat on their knees instead of their bums. Phil’s dad had since joined them, sat in one of the plush chairs, leaning over the arm with his coffee as he added to Phil’s stories. Sometimes he even interjected with his own. He was in the middle of retelling the story of the year Phil put a hundred sticky notes that all said ‘ _Can I please have a dog?’_ all over the tree, when Phil’s mum came down the stairs. Her “ _Happy Christmas, boys”_ was met with three _Merry Christmases_ and an added “ _Coffee’s ready for you,"_ from Phil’s dad. 

Dan’s mug was discarded next to Phil’s on the floor, Phil’s dad was poking at the newly lit fire, and his mum was leaning against the arm of the couch with both her hands wrapped around her mug, watching Dan and Phil with a smile. They were standing now, bumping hips and elbows as Phil went up the tree. They were nearing the top now, and Dan felt like he had spent thirty Christmases with Phil’s family as he gained every story. Phil was pulling a particularly embarrassing photo frame ornament from Dan’s hand as Martyn and Cornelia bounded down the stairs. A cacophony of _Merry_ and _Happy Christmases_ filled the room upon their arrival, and when that died down Dan shot a smile their way with a _“Kath just started another pot of coffee.”_

By the time they got to the tippy-top of the tree, Martyn was arguing with Phil over who was the one to break the old angel that was now replaced with a star, and cinnamon buns had gone in and out of the oven. Cornelia was sat right up against the fire, cutting into her bun with a knife and fork on the plate that was resting on her knees, and Phil’s parents were now cuddled up on the couch. Phil was waving his last bit of pastry in Martyn’s face, insisting he wasn’t the culprit, and Dan stepped between them with a smile - plucking the piece of bun from Phil’s threatening fingers and popping it into his own mouth with a sneer. Phil huffed, Martyn cheered - accepting that as his victory, and Dan tried not to laugh as he chewed. Dan wasn’t getting off scot-free though, as Phil leaned forward and pressed a sloppy, icing sugar lipped kiss to Dan’s lips. Dan smiled against his mouth, their teeth clacking together with the movement, and he didn’t even register, or even care, that they were in a room full of people.

It took a bit of convincing from Phil once the Lesters were all awake, full of coffee and cinnamon rolls, to go on a walk up to the nearby cliffs. They weren’t too keen on the snow on the ground, but it really wasn’t that much, at least not enough to make the walk unsafe, And it _was_ Christmas after all, so no one in the room dared to say no to Phil’s pout. Once the kitchen sink was full of mugs and plates, they all made their way upstairs - some to get dressed out of pajamas and some to add more layers. 

Dan peered out the window as Phil was rummaging in the wardrobe for his gloves and scarf. The snow was now completely settled, just a thin blanket covering the Isle. “I’m going to regret only bringing my slip-ons aren’t I?” He scrunched up his nose at the snow, but it was so pretty outside he couldn’t really care about the cold, wet feet to come. 

“Your feet are smaller than mine, right?” Phil asked and Dan turned around to give him a _look_. Phil had his head peeked out from behind the wardrobe door, and the second he saw Dan’s quirked brow a smug look settled on his face. Dan rolled his eyes dramatically. 

“Not by much,” he said under his breath and Phil’s eyes crinkled. He ducked back into the wardrobe and popped back out with two pairs of boots in his hands. 

“I keep a couple pairs of hiking boots here as we go on a lot of walks.” He held one of the pairs out to Dan and Dan stepped away from the window to take them. “These are my older ones, they’ll probably be a bit roomy but should fit you well.” 

“Thank you,” Dan brought the boots over to the edge of the bed so he could pull them on, Phil following, dipping down the spot next to him and bumping their shoulders together. 

“So you must come up here a lot?” Dan asked as he pulled at the laces to tighten the shoes into a more snug fit. “With you keeping clothes and stuff here,” he elaborated and Phil hummed beside him. 

“Yeah,” Phil looped his own laces into bunny ears, double knotting them and stretching back up from where he was hunched over. He leaned into Dan’s side as Dan worked at tightening his boots with his ankle over his knee. “I love it here. Like, it’s a calming place, I think the sea just does something for me,” he chuckled, “but I mostly try to visit as often as I can because I’m afraid if I don’t, they’ll get old and I won’t even recognize them. I worry about that a lot.”

Dan felt the words tug as his heart, and he put his foot back down on the floor so he could fully lean back into Phil, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and squeezing. 

“You’re a sweetheart, Phil, has anyone told you that lately?” 

Phil just huffed, and leaned his head against Dan’s shoulder, Dan took the opportunity to press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“This place is beautiful, and I’ve barely even seen it,” Dan added, squeezing Phil’s shoulder one last time before letting go so they could both get up, “If I were you, I would be visiting all the time.” 

“You’re more than welcome to,” Phil smiled and turned with an excited “ _oh!”_ before Dan could even respond. He went back to the wardrobe, and pulled something black out of it. “I _do_ have something for you!” he tossed the object at Dan and Dan narrowly caught the soft fabric, preventing it from smacking him in the face. He held it in his hands, a soft knitted beanie with a large furry pom pom at the top. Of course, it was entirely black. 

“This is for me?” Dan rubbed the soft wool between his fingers and Phil giggled from where he was tugging his own hat over his head. 

“Yeah, silly.” Phil walked back over to Dan and took the hat from him, pushing his curls away from his eyes with one hand before stretching it over Dan’s head. “Remember that one time you were mad I didn’t have any black beanies?” 

“I wasn’t mad,” Dan said in a soft voice, and Phil patted at the sides of Dan’s head before letting his hands drop to clasp behind his neck. 

“Well my auntie makes them for me, that’s why I have so many, so I asked her to make a black on black one for you.” Phil rubbed at the back of Dan’s neck with his thumb. Dan knew the look on his face must have been _beyond_ fond, as he was so warm with love he almost wanted to cry again. But he willed himself not to and leaned his forehead against Phil’s instead. 

“Thank you. Thank her, for me, please?” 

“Of course,” Phil kissed his nose, just as multiple voices started calling for them from down the stairs. They giggled, up close in each other’s faces, and then made their way back downstairs, hand in hand. 

They pulled on their jackets in the now cramped entryway as everyone else was waiting by the door. Phil took no time to tease Dan for the way his Givenchy scarf that was wrapped around his neck just said “EN” where it was pulled up over his chin. 

“One day I’ll get you to understand fashion, Phil, one day…” Dan shook his head as he pulled on his matching gloves, looking Phil up and down in that green coat of his paired with a set of matching purple gloves, hat, and scarf that was tucked in underneath the coat. He was about to add that Phil looked like he was an off-brand Hulk or Donatello the ninja turtle, when Cornelia interrupted from where she was standing by the door. 

“Can you two stop flirting so we can go?” Everyone, except for Dan and Phil, laughed with the request. 

“Or at least flirt on the move,” Phil’s Dad added, turning to open the door, letting the chilled air in. Dan could feel his face going impossibly redder, Phil finally chuckling beside him as they all started filing out the door. 

Dan tried not to think about it as they walked hand in hand, trailing behind Cornelia and Phil’s dad who were leading the pack, Phil’s mum and brother a few paces behind them. He really tried not to, but the snow crunching beneath his feet and the breathtaking views weren’t enough to distract him from the thoughts. They were just so loud, yelling in his head about how casual Phil’s family was with them, and how easily he fell into the safety of it all. It’s like it hit him all at once, like the salty sea air whipping against his face smacked him back into reality. Not once, since walking through the door last night, had Dan fretted over how affectionate he could be towards Phil or what he could or could not say. They just...were them...and that was okay. It was no big deal to any of them. Dan felt overwhelmingly comfortable. 

He hated that there was something sad about it, something in the back of his brain that always had to put a damper on every situation. His brain having to always go _there,_ imagining what could be if his past was different. But it wasn’t, and he wasn’t unhappy with how his life has turned out over the past five years, so he can’t let those thoughts take over - not when he’s been _this_ happy. It was just bittersweet, the feelings in his heart, that was all. 

He squeezed Phil’s hand as they traversed up the slight incline to the top of the cliff, Phil turned his head and smiled at him, his wide eyes looking the slightest bit surprised that Dan had been looking at him this whole time. Dan felt overwhelmingly in love. 

There were many ways that they had been saying it all along, Dan realizes now. Phil’s “ _I_ _know”_ in response to his “ _I love you”_ put that into perspective for him. They were saying it when they would bicker and mock each other, rolled eyes and fond “ _I hate you”_ s and “ _You’re the worst”_ s, and especially without words - the soft touches, a squeeze of a hand, a gentle shove at a shoulder. There were a million ways to say I love you and Dan and Phil had found every single one. 

It was fitting for someone who had always seemed to feel so deeply. And once he realized that, it felt almost unnecessary to say the words out loud - like, _duh_ , _obviously._ But Dan felt compelled to anyways as he looked at Phil, the calm ebb and flow of the sea his backdrop. He thinks he was out of breath for three reasons: the effort of walking up to the top of the cliff, the cold sea air that was filling his lungs, and most prominently from all of the feelings that were overwhelming his heart. 

Everyone caught their breath as they made it to the top, admiring the view from all directions. Phil’s parents stood with their arms around each other, facing towards the sea. Martyn and Cornelia kept walking up a steeper incline to get a higher vantage point. And Phil tugged Dan right up to the edge, _definitely too close for Dan’s comfort_ , with the confidence of someone who didn’t often trip over his own feet. They looked out at the sea below them, and Dan wasn’t sure how he was supposed to be catching his breath. 

Phil leaned his head on Dan’s shoulder, and he could feel the deep breath the other man let out. Dan dropped his hand with the movement, instead reaching his arm around to squeeze at Phil’s shoulder, tugging him in closer to his side. Phil hummed, content. Dan was too. 

“Love you,” Dan said softly to the sea. Phil just moved his arm that was squished between them, wrapping it around Dan’s waist. He squeezed at Dan’s hip, eliciting a giggle from Dan. They watched the sea roll back and forth like that for quite some time, the cold didn’t bother them. The only sounds that filled their ears were the ones of crashing waves, the occasional bird overhead, and Martyn and Cornelia giggling and shouting at each other as they attempted to scoop up snow for a snowball fight of two. 

“I was right,” Phil declared, suddenly. He lifted his head from Dan’s shoulder and Dan turned his head to look at him. 

“Hm?”

Phil looked out at the sea, then back to Dan again. He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. Dan smiled back, even though he had no idea what Phil was on about. It was hard to not smile while looking at Phil. 

“It’s the same feeling.” Phil looked back to the sea and it only took Dan a few seconds for it to click. _There were a million ways to say it._

They eventually stopped being so sappy and introspective, giggling and joking with each other as they both pulled out their phones to take a few pictures of the sea and the snowy landscape around them. Phil said a few unintentional - _or were they? -_ innuendos and Dan threatened to push him off the cliff more than a few times. 

When Martyn and Cornelia decided they had enough of the excursion, they brought their snowball fight down to the cliff the other four were on, Martyn landing a snowball directly in the center of Phil’s back. They chased each other down the hill, probably not the best idea with the snow on the ground, and Phil got a few shots in in retaliation. Dan, Cornelia, and Phil’s parents trailed behind, all sharing laughter over the two overgrown children chasing each other back and forth ahead of them. 

When they were towards the bottom of the hill, the Lester house in sight again, Phil came running back towards the group with... _what was that?_ Dan squinted his eyes, and as Phil got closer he realized his boyfriend was running towards him with a skinny branch of a tree - bare except for a few surprisingly green leaves holding onto the end of it. Phil skidded to a stop when he reached Dan, both him and Cornelia quirking a brow at him. She just laughed and kept walking when he wouldn’t let Dan pass, catching up to Phil’s parents. 

Dan crossed his arms as Phil stood in front of him, “What are you up to?” 

Phil just smirked with a gleam in his eye, holding the sad branch above their heads. 

“I’m under the mistletoe, you have to kiss me,” he said with a cheeky smile. 

“Phil, that is a stick.” 

“Shh, it’s mistletoe.”

“You’re ridiculous.” 

Phil shook the branch overhead, drops of melted snow hit Dan’s face with the action. He grimaced, but he couldn’t hold it for long with the way Phil was looking at him.  
“If you don’t kiss me under the mistletoe, you’ll have bad luck forever!” 

“Oh will I?” Dan quirked a brow, shaking his head with a smile. Phil nodded enthusiastically. 

Dan rolled his eyes, but leaned forward to kiss Phil. He felt Phil smile against his mouth, and the feeling that small action brought with it was enough for him to not frown when he felt more droplets of water hitting their foreheads as they kissed. 

Dan just shook his head again when they parted, that smile still plastered on his face. _Mistletoe,_ he repeated in his head - somehow it even sounded fond from in there - as Phil flung the stick behind them as they hurried to catch up with the rest of the group. 

After kicking off wet boots and hanging coats back on their hooks, Phil’s dad was quick to start the fire up again, all of them collectively huddled up in front of it. Cornelia, Dan, and Phil sat in a row with their legs outstretched, tapping their toes against each other as they warmed them by the fire. Martyn had stretched out on the couch and, unbeknown to the three of them, was snapping pictures of their antics with a grin. Kath excused herself to get dinner in the oven before they did presents, refusing all offers of help from the “children” in the house - citing last year’s Christmas when both Martyn and Phil had let the turkey burn to a crisp on their watch. 

Cornelia and Dan became fast friends. They got up from the carpet to sit at the piano bench together after Dan had mentioned he used to dabble in tinkering around on the piano. They played together as she taught him a few Christmas songs, Dan often hitting the wrong notes, and Phil loudly singing out of tune along with them. By the time Phil’s mum got dinner started in the oven and they were ready to do gifts, Dan had become an expert at “Jingle Bells” in the left hand. _Move over, Chopin._

Phil was quick to declare himself Santa, making sure that everyone had found a spot on the floor, the couch, or one of the arm chairs before handing out presents. He directed Dan to the armchair closest to the tree, patting at his knee once he sat down, and letting it be known that the place on the rug by Dan’s feet was _his spot._ Phil’s mum gave his brother a warning look as she reminded everyone that they would be doing stockings before anyone opened any gifts, as Phil bounced around the room, from the tree to each person, making piles of gifts beside them. A small pile of beautifully wrapped boxes surrounded Dan’s feet. So Phil wasn’t the only one with catalogue perfect wrapping skills, huh, Dan smiled to himself as he watched it all unfold. 

Once the presents were moved from under the tree, now with their rightful recipients, Phil stepped around the hazard of a pile of his own gifts to get to the mantle. He removed each stocking from their hooks - the one with a red tartan K embroidered on it going to his mum, the matching green tartan N going to his dad, a pink sequined C going to Cornelia, and an M in a floral pattern going to his brother. Phil walked back over to Dan, two stockings in his hand. Dan quirked a brow and Phil just smirked at him, dropping the only non-embroidered stocking in his lap before sitting down with his own - a glittery blue P on the front. 

“It’s not much, love,” Phil’s mum said before Dan could question it. He looked up from the red stocking in his lap over to where she was sat on the couch. “We have a couple extras, so when Phil told me you were coming up I did one up for you too. He told me which sweets you would like best, so if you don’t like them take that up with him,” she smiled at him. 

Dan gripped the fabric of the stocking in his hand, his heart doing some sort of gymnastics routine in his chest. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking between Phil’s parents in earnest. “Thank you so much,” he added, “I brought a few things for you all as well,” he looked over at the smiling faces of Martyn and Cornelia. “It’s really nothing much, now that I know you guys better I can vow to be a better gift giver in the future,” he chuckled and Phil turned from where he was leaning against Dan’s legs to playfully swat at him. 

Dan’s words were met with a chorus of, “ _Oh that’s lovely, Dan", “Thank you”_ s _,_ and “ _You didn’t have to”_ s. Dan couldn’t even care about the blush that was taking over his whole face as the entire room smiled at him - real, genuine smiles. 

They all dug through their stockings - Phil quickly consuming half the chocolate within his, Dan telling him he was going to get sick, but eating just as much of his own - before opening presents. Dan sat and watched with a never faltering grin on his face as the Lesters opened their gifts, he couldn’t have been more content. His hand rested on Phil’s shoulder as Phil held up each thing he unwrapped to show Dan - board games, puzzles, socks, and tree ornaments being the most occurring offenders - and every so often he would lean his head back to rest on Dan’s knees, looking up at him with wonder in his eyes. _This._ This was the best gift Dan could have received, and he didn’t even ask for it. 

His gifts were well received, and it seemed genuine. Phil’s dad letting out a cheer when he saw the expensive bottle, Martyn shooting a loud _“What a lad!”_ in Dan’s direction as he held up his own. Cornelia and Kath both getting up to step around Phil to give Dan a tight squeeze around the shoulders. They said many thanks in his ear and he got a couple kisses on his forehead - which, at this point, was probably _also_ blushing somehow with how red his face was from the praise and affection. 

When all the gifts had been opened, Phil’s mum went back into the kitchen to check in on dinner - once again refusing all the offers of help sent her way. 

“Wow, you two must have really done a number on that turkey,” Dan whistled. 

“It was Martyn’s fault!” Phil was quick to point fingers, and Dan just leaned back against the back of the chair as the two brothers began to bicker at each other - both insisting it was the other’s fault. 

Dan made eye contact with Cornelia from across the room, she rolled her eyes and mouthed _“It was both of them”_ with a wink. Dan giggled and she smiled back, both of them shaking their heads at their boyfriends. Cornelia reached over into the black gift bag beside her and pulled out the nail polish set that Dan had stuck in there. She held it up, “Do you want to do my nails?” 

Dan couldn’t stop the look of surprise on his face, “Really?” Cornelia nodded, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. 

“Yours look so good, I can never do mine that well.” She nodded towards Dan’s hand that was still resting on Phil’s shoulder, “Please?” She batted her eyes at him. Dan let out a soft chuckle, to think he was _worried_ about showing up with polish on his nails before…

“Of course,” he smiled and Cornelia clapped her hands, getting up with a whoosh and telling him they can set up at the table in the kitchen. Dan patted at Phil’s shoulder so he could get up. Phil stopped his banter with his brother and dad for all of two seconds to make grabby hands at Dan, so he would lean down for a kiss before he left the room. Dan, of course, gave Phil what he wanted. He was sure that’s how it was always going to be, and he absolutely wasn’t mad about it. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help Kath?” Dan asked as he followed Cornelia into the kitchen. 

“No hun, thanks for asking, but I’m just about done in here,” she responded as she stretched back up from where she was crouching over, looking into the oven. The oven door closed shut with a slight shake of the counter. 

“Would you like to join us?” Cornelia added as she was pulling two chairs out next to each other at the table, turning them so they faced one another. She plopped down in one of them and gestured to the other, Dan joining her. 

“What are you lot up to?” Kath hummed, turning on the tap to wash her hands. She pulled the tea towel off of her shoulder to dry them, then tossed it on the counter before stepping across the room to sit with them at the table. 

Cornelia held up the package of nail polishes, “Dan’s going to do my nails,” she smiled and popped the box open, taking all the colors out to line up on the table. 

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Kath grinned at Dan - he was pretty sure he was just a walking human blush monster at this point - and reached across the table to pick up the sparkly deep red polish out of the lineup. “If the nail tech has an opening, this color is gorgeous.” She raised a brow at Dan and he was pretty sure he was giving her his famed loaf-of-bread smile back. 

“Absolutely.” 

They talked and giggled and gossiped as Dan painted both of their nails. Both of them praised his ability to do a perfect swipe every time, barely even needing to wipe any excess of their skin with the corner of his own nail. He just brushed the praise off, chalking it down to his perfectionism gene and how often he does his own. By the time Phil had wandered into the kitchen, Kath’s sparkly red nails and Cornelia's alternating holographic blue and white nails were long dried. But the three of them were still deep in their shared stories and laughter. 

Phil stopped behind Dan’s chair, leaning over to rest his chin on Dan’s head, “Is dinner ready yet, Mum?” 

Kath shook her head with a smile from across the table, “You boys and your food,” she chuckled, “Yes, it’s just finishing off in the oven.” 

Phil hummed, the vibration going straight into Dan’s skull from their position. Cornelia reached over to tug at the sleeve of his jumper. 

“Phil, do you want Dan to do your nails? Look how good he did!” she held up her hands and Phil stepped away from Dan to take one of her smaller hands in his own, moving it around as he admired the polish. 

He turned back to Dan with a small smile on his face. “I’d like the blue.”

Dan looked up at his eyes and they shared a look, Phil’s smile only getting wider. “At your service,” he bowed his head before grabbing the holographic blue off the table, and Cornelia moved seats so Phil could take the spot across Dan. 

Phil’s nails weren’t as easy of a feat as his mum’s and Cornelia’s, with his constant moving and trying to touch everything once Dan had gotten them as perfect as he could - not understand the concept of _“Please, Phil for the love of God, they need to dry_.” But Dan’s annoyance was worth it when Phil’s nails _were_ dry - once they were all sat around the table having dinner as a family - and Dan kept catching Phil hold his hand up to make the polish shimmer in the overhead lighting out of the corner of his eye. 

They lounged after dinner, bellies and hearts full, as _Love Actually_ played on the television above the fireplace. Phil’s parents were cuddled up in one of the plush armchairs, Dan wasn’t entirely sure that they were still awake. It was probably one of the cutest things he had ever seen. In competition only with how Martyn and Cornelia were sat at the other end of the couch, in a similar position to Dan and Phil, Cornelia also looking very asleep. Everyone was just _very cute_ in this room, Dan looked down at Phil with a smile. Phil had his head in Dan’s lap, curled up on his side as he watched the movie, his and Cornelia’s feet tangled up together where they met in the middle of the couch. The only thing telling Dan that he _was_ still awake, was how he would turn his head away from the TV every so often to look back at Dan. Fond eyes always meeting fonder. 

Dan loved a good movie that would make him cry, but he didn’t see much point to watching a romantic comedy when he was already living in one, so he was only half tuned into the movie. One of his hands was buried in Phil’s hair, softly massaging his scalp, his phone was in the other, scrolling through Instagram. The vast majority of his feed was posts about Christmas, he noticed as he scrolled and double tapped, most of the people he followed getting extra personal for the holiday. It made him smile - _not like he wasn’t already smiling or hadn’t been smiling all day_ \- to see so many people being happy and festive and carefree about their posting. It almost... _no. Absolutely not._

_Well…_

Dan clicked at the bottom right corner on his screen, bringing him to his own feed. He bit at his lip as he slid his finger across the screen, up and down, over and over. He wasn’t really _looking_ at anything, just watching the slight blur of his grid going up and down his screen as he contemplated. He wouldn’t... _no_...he couldn’t. So why did he want to? Why was his mind chanting: _do it, do it, do it?_

Oh, come on, he knew why. _Goddamn Phil_ and how easily he made Dan go soft. 

He really couldn’t just do it though, obviously. He tapped his thumb where it was tangled in Phil’s hair, and a low hum left Phil’s throat in response. When Phil just cuddled closer into Dan’s lap, Dan took his hand from Phil’s head to rest on his shoulder, pulling at it slightly to get him to turn back to him. Phil stretched, as much as he could all squished up on the couch, and flopped over on his back - knees pulled up so his heels were pressing into the side of Dan’s thigh. He looked up at Dan with a soft smile and tender eyes. 

“Question,” Dan said quietly, not wanting to break through the quiet of the room. 

“Answer,” Phil matched his tone. They shared a hushed giggle. Phil shuffled around and stretched his head up, whining and making a pouty kissy-face when he couldn’t reach Dan without sitting up properly. Dan obliged to the request, leaning down to meet Phil’s lips. He rested his arm across Phil’s chest, slotting his hand around the back of Phil’s neck, and gently brushing at the skin under his thumb. When Dan pulled away, he didn’t do so entirely, still leaning into Phil’s space as he contemplated how he was going to ask this. 

“I know we’ve never really discussed this in any serious way, but I was just thinking…” Dan didn’t pause the way he was rubbing his thumb back and forth against Phil’s skin as he spoke, and Phil looked up at him with a quirked brow. “How do you, like, really feel about the idea of being public?” 

A look of confusion passed over Phil’s face, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, _us…_ ” 

“Aren’t we...I didn’t know that we weren’t,” a frown had settled over Phil’s face, the crease between his brows started to get stronger. 

Dan moved his hand from the back of Phil’s neck to smooth his thumb over the spot instead, “No, no, of course. I mean like, I don’t explicitly post about _you_ on my public socials…” Dan explained. 

Phil’s mouth turned from a frown to a slight smirk, “So you’re saying your three a.m. cryptic love tweets _weren’t_ about me?” he teased. Dan huffed out a laugh and lightly flicked at Phil’s nose, earning a whine in response, Phil’s face scrunching up with the action. 

“‘Course they were, you spoon,” Dan hummed, his voice couldn’t be more fond. “I’m talking about posting pictures of you, _of us,_ on my Instagram.” 

“Oh,” Phil’s expression quickly became unreadable. Dan didn’t like when that happened. Though it didn’t happen often, he was just so used to being able to completely read each other. 

“I’d understand if not, _really,_ I’m not entirely sure what has overcome me. It’s not like me to get really personal on there...I was scrolling through my feed of everyone’s sappy happy Christmas posts just now and started thinking…” He trailed off to watch Phil reach his hand over to wrap his fingers around Dan’s. “I really want to shout to the world how _happy_ I am right now, with you.” Phil squeezed his hand once, and the expression on his face was more open when Dan looked back. 

A large smile spread across Phil’s face, and it was Dan’s turn to quirk a brow. “Does that mean I would be allowed to start posting pictures of you? I have so many, I could open an art gallery.” 

Dan laughed, “Maybe this is a bad idea, I don’t need any more embarrassing pictures of me on the internet.” 

“None of my photos of you are embarrassing!” 

“I’ve seen your camera roll, it’s ninety percent creep shots,” Dan quipped back. 

“But they’re cuuute,” Phil sung, pouting up at Dan. Dan shook his head, leaning down to press another kiss to Phil’s mouth. 

“For real though, is that something you would be comfortable with?” Dan asked when they parted.

Phil nodded his head, almost instantly, and Dan could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t just appeasing him. Which Dan appreciated. “Is it something _you’re_ comfortable with?” he hummed back after a moment, looking Dan in the eye as if he could find the answer within them. 

Dan thought for a moment, not once looking away from Phil’s gaze. “I don’t want to share everything, obviously…” Phil nodded at Dan’s words. “But like, I would like to share my best friend with the world.” 

“Aw, Dan, I’m your best friend?” Phil dragged both of their hands over his heart and they erupted in laughter that was definitely too loud for the quiet of the room. No one in the room seemed to be paying much attention to them though, most of them _were_ actually asleep, and Martyn just gave them a sideways glance and a soft shake of the head before turning back to the TV.

“Shut up,” Dan hummed, squeezing at Phil’s hand in his. 

“I’m your super best friend?” Phil teased. 

Dan rolled his eyes, “Super duper best friend,” he corrected in a flat voice. 

Phil rolled his eyes back. “We’ll always vet each other’s posts, right?” Phil let go of Dan’s hand to hold out a pinky. Dan smiled. 

“Of course,” he looped his pinky with Phil’s, bending down to seal it with a kiss. 

Phil eventually shuffled up off of Dan’s lap, curling into his side so he could watch as Dan scrolled through his camera roll. Dan scrolled through the entirety of their relationship in photos, stopping every so often to add ones that he personally deemed acceptable to post to a folder. He quickly found that it was impossible to find any photos that didn’t scream that they were in love though, so he gave up on the idea that he could be vague about that aspect of their relationship while still sharing Phil with his followers. Even without posting the pictures he had of them kissing, or with their arms around one another, or sitting in each other’s laps, you could just tell from the look on their faces that they were head over heels for each other. He was okay with that though, he thinks Phil was as well - he didn’t need to make a whole _thing_ about it. His followers could take it however they pleased. He thought that was a good way to settle between sharing something _so_ personal to him, without it being overly personal to the point where it made him uncomfortable. 

“Is this the first selfie we took?” Phil tapped at Dan’s phone, the picture of the two of them laying on the ice took up the screen. Dan hummed a “ _yeah”_ in response. The Phil in the picture had his head turned to Dan, all fond eyes and a soft smile. The Dan in the picture was looking at the camera - or well, the Phil on his screen - with the same eyes. It was hard to choose a favorite picture of them, when every picture of them was his favorite picture, but this one was a top contender. As well as the one after it, when Dan had gotten Phil’s attention and they were both looking at the camera, the same love in their eyes. Dan swiped at the screen for that picture to come up. 

“I forgot about these,” Phil leaned his head on Dan’s shoulder as they looked down at Dan’s phone. “I think these are my favorite.” 

Dan hummed in agreement. “Mine too.” 

“You should post them,” Phil squeezed at Dan’s thigh to emphasize his point. 

“Yeah?” Dan asked, leaning his head back against Phil’s. He added both of the pictures to his pool of ones to choose from. “I quite like this one,” he nudged at Phil’s shoulder as he scrolled to the picture of Phil splayed out on the ice from when he first fell on his ass. 

“Nooooo,” Phil moved his hand that was on Dan’s thigh to cover his eyes. 

Dan was quick to add that one to the folder as well. “Please, can I post it, pretty please?” Dan put his phone down on his lap so he could turn and pull Phil’s hand off his eyes. Phil sat up straight and looked back at him with narrowed eyes, but a huge smile was plastered on his face. 

“Only if…” Phil stuck his hand into the pocket of his jeans, retrieving his own phone. Dan just watched with a flaming blush on his face as he opened his own camera roll, clicking on a folder that was named “ _Dan”_ with a black heart emoji. He didn’t know that Phil had made that. “I can post this picture,” Phil finished his thought. The picture he wanted was easy to find as it was recent, only behind the few pictures they had taken on Phil’s phone in the past day. He clicked on it and Dan looking back at Phil with his finished tiny Christmas tree next to him filled up the screen. His smile was genuine - as it was in all of the pictures he took with Phil, but this one was impressively wide - and Dan thought you could see exactly what he was thinking in that moment in his eyes. 

Phil wanted to show _this_ Dan off. The Dan that only Phil got to see. Granted, it wasn’t to over a million followers like Dan, but it was to Phil’s friends and colleagues, his extended family...that felt exponentially more special. 

“You’ve got a deal,” Dan said confidently. 

He leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and tapped at Phil’s phone, going back to the album grid. He clicked on the most recent picture in the album, one from just before they had dinner. Phil had insisted that Dan let Martyn take the picture of them, standing in front of the big Christmas tree, Phil’s arm slung around Dan’s shoulder, in their _definitely not matching_ Christmas sweaters. Okay, maybe Dan was already breaking his newly imposed rule to not post super couple-y photos. 

“Can I post this one?” Dan asked, tapping at the screen to send the picture to himself, he wanted it regardless. 

“Absolutely.” Phil opened his own Instagram when Dan let him have control over his phone again. Dan picked his back up, unlocking it and saving the picture that had just popped up in their text thread. He opened the folder he was putting all the options in and looked through them for a while, Phil was double tapping down his own feed as he waited for Dan. 

He wanted to post every picture of them, but he couldn’t do that, obviously. While he was trying to make a decision, Phil’s parents had woken up. Or well, his mum had woken up, then woke up his dad. They both went up to bed with some last _Merry Christmases, Thank you'_ s _,_ and a kiss on Dan, Phil, and Martyn’s foreheads from his mum as she walked past the back of the couch. With that, and the overwhelmingly soft feeling in his chest, Dan decided to just keep it simple. 

He opened Instagram, forgoing any of his usual editing rituals, and clicked to make a post. He added the picture of the two of them in front of the tree first, followed by the one of them on the ice - both looking at the camera, then the one of them on the ice - Phil looking at Dan, and finally the silly picture of Phil pouting up at Dan after falling on the ice. They said a lot, looking at them, but maybe Dan _wanted_ to say a lot. 

Dan didn’t even have to fret over a caption, he knew what he wanted to say. He tapped the caption out quickly, **_merry christmas to you and yours from me and mine_** , before handing his phone over to Phil. Phil put his own phone down and took Dan’s, looking at the post, the pictures, with a smile on his face. 

“Are you sure I fit your aesthetic?” Phil bumped his shoulder into Dan’s, “Maybe you should make this one black and white or something,” he added as he looked at the first photo in the post. 

Dan scoffed. _Sure,_ he had his carefully crafted aesthetic to uphold. And _sure_ , that much color on his feed would throw it off. But if there was anything he took more seriously than said aesthetic, it was his love for Phil. Absolutely nothing would get him to wipe out his colors. 

“You fit perfectly into my aesthetic.” Dan left it at that, taking his phone back from Phil. “Good to go?” he asked, looking at Phil with questioning eyes. 

Phil gave him an unreadable look, then it shifted into something more sly. “Yeah, you could at least tag me for the clout though,” he said casually as he opened his own Instagram back up, pulling up the drafted post that he had made while waiting for Dan to make up his mind. It was just the picture of Dan and his small tree, with the caption: **_Merry Danmas_ ** with a black heart emoji. 

Dan huffed out a laugh as he tagged Phil in the first photo, then he took a breath and pressed post. It was surprisingly easy, just throwing that much vulnerability out to so many people to be judged and scrutinized - but with Phil, everything was easy. Phil had posted his own picture right after Dan, then locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. 

“Take my phone away from me or I will sit here and agonize over comments,” Dan held his own phone out towards Phil, pinching it by the corner, looking at it like it was radioactive. 

Phil chuckled as he took Dan’s phone, “Alright,” he bumped his shoulder into Dan’s. “Hey, do you think we could get those two to play one of my new games with us?” he said in Dan’s ear. 

“I _can_ hear you two,” Martyn responded from the other side of the couch, eliciting a giggle from Cornelia who was very much no longer awake. 

She sat up from Martyn’s lap and turned to Dan and Phil, “What do you want to play?” 

Martyn groaned, but there was a smile on his face, “I’ll go make us drinks…” He patted at Cornelia’s thigh as he got up off the couch, stretching with a yawn before padding into the kitchen. 

“Hey Phil, add another log to the fire when you get up!” he called from the entryway. 

Once Phil untangled himself from Dan, he tended to the fire, almost burning his eyebrows off in the process - Dan and Cornelia yelling at him _“Don’t stick your face in the fire!”_ and “ _Phil! Why are you like this?”_ from the couch. 

By the time Phil got the game all set up, and the three of them were sat around the coffee table in front of the fire, Martyn had made two trips back into the lounge with a steaming hot toddy in each hand. They played and laughed and drank for hours, cycling through all of Phil’s new games. Cornelia had pouted after Dan and Phil won the tenth round of charades in a row, insisting that they had to be sharing a brain to guess each other’s phrases so quickly, and they ended up shuffling around teams multiple times. Phil and Martyn struggled to beat Cornelia and Dan - mostly due to the fact that Phil kept blurting out the answers every time Dan mimed something, giving it away to Cornelia to correctly guess. There were a lot of laughs, and swears, and empty threats. Dan was so happy his face absolutely ached from how much he was smiling, neither dimple left their spots on his cheeks the whole time. 

Eventually Martyn and Cornelia had enough of their antics, heading up to bed themselves once Dan and Phil had started resorting to throwing cards at each other. The two of them were left alone to clean up the mess of cards they had created, just their wheezy laughter and the crackling fireplace accompanying them. They lounged by the fire when all the games were neatly tucked away, Dan leaning into Phil’s side as Phil rubbed at his shoulder - both of them staring into the dancing flames as they started to die down. 

“Should I put another on? Or are you tired?” Phil hummed, his words vibrating against the top of Dan’s head from where he had it pressed into Phil’s neck. 

“Mm, not really tired,” Dan wrapped his arms tighter around Phil’s middle, “too happy to be tired.” 

Phil chuckled softly, squeezing Dan’s shoulder, pulling him impossibly closer. “Me too,” he gave him another gentle squeeze before untangling himself from Dan’s grasp. 

“I still need to give you your Christmas gift,” Dan bit his lip as he leaned back and enjoyed the view of Phil bending over in front of the fireplace. _Merry Christmas, indeed._ Phil poked at the fire with the metal tool, a surprised “ _oof”_ squeaking out of him as the fire roared back to life and he jumped backwards, almost tumbling into Dan’s long legs. Dan chuckled, grabbing at Phil’s ankles to steady him. “Unfortunately I did not follow through with my initial plans to get you fire safety classes for Christmas…”

“ _Hey!_ ” Phil went to poke at Dan’s hands with the fire poker and Dan quickly let go of him. “I do not need that,” he huffed as he returned to the fire, tossing another log into it before turning back to Dan. 

“ _Okay,_ Mister _I forget about my lit candles all the time,_ ” Dan mocked as Phil protested, holding up his metal weapon as if he was going to poke Dan’s tongue right out of his mouth. They both erupted in giggles after a mildly intense staring competition, Phil being the first to blink, turning back to put the poker in its holder with a pout. 

Dan pushed himself up off the carpet, stretching his legs out, and cursing how long he had been sitting on the floor with them folded beneath him. He made the two steps over to Phil and wrapped his arms around his neck, planting a kiss directly onto his pouting mouth. Phil smiled into the kiss, humming as he tried to pull Dan in closer, but Dan wasn’t having any of that. He pulled away with a quick tap at Phil’s nose with his index finger.

“I’m gonna go get your present,” he explained as he stepped away, making his way towards the stairs. 

“M’kay,” Phil hummed, “I’m going to make a hot chocolate, do you want one? Or a tea?” he asked before Dan could make it out of the room. 

“Hot chocolate would be lovely.” 

“You’re lovely,” Phil called after him as Dan stepped out of the room and started up the stairs. Dan just smiled down at his feet as he skipped up them, feeling his face get warm from something other than the heat of the fire or the whiskey in his system. 

When Dan returned downstairs with the small gift bag in his hand, he was met with the sight of Phil sat by the fireplace again, holding a mug of hot chocolate with an obscene amount of marshmallows piled on top between both of his hands. Dan wished his phone was still in his pocket so he could take a picture, but it wasn’t, so he stood at the door frame of the lounge memorizing the image in another way. 

“You know, I heard you coming down the stairs,” Phil broke the silence of the room after a few minutes of Dan unabashedly staring at the side of Phil’s profile. Phil didn’t even turn his head towards him, he just sipped at his cocoa as he stared at the Christmas tree, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“Can’t a man just stare?” Dan quipped, finally stepping across the room. 

Phil pursed his lips in thought, “I guess, but I’m gonna have to start charging.”

Dan huffed out a laugh as he unceremoniously plopped himself into Phil’s lap, stretching his legs out towards the fire, and almost spilling Phil’s hot chocolate in the process. Phil complained as he did so, putting his mug down with a huff so he could squeeze around Dan’s waist. Dan leaned his side into Phil’s chest, more than a few soft kisses landing on Phil’s cheek. 

He eventually shuffled back, scooting until his bum was on the carpet, keeping his legs crossed over Phil’s lap, so Phil could take his gift. He passed it off and took the full mug of hot chocolate that was next to Phil’s abandoned one. 

“It’s really nothing much,” Dan said, staring into his mug instead of looking at Phil, “just a couple of things that made me think of you when I was on my way here.” He didn’t know why he was suddenly so nervous. He could probably get Phil half of an old sock and he would love it. Phil said as much, causing Dan to laugh, finally turning his head to look at him. 

“You could get me a chewed piece of gum and I would cherish it.” 

“God, you’re nasty,” Dan got out between laughs. 

“You’re worse,” Phil bantered back, starting to pull at the red tissue paper in the bag. Dan watched intently. 

“I won’t contest to that.” 

Phil pulled out one of the ornaments and began to gently unwrap it. He carefully ripped at the paper, like it was something more precious than the leftover discount wrapping from Tesco, and Dan bit at his lip. 

“Oh!” Phil exclaimed once the corgi was revealed. Dan let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding in as Phil grinned, holding the corgi up by its ribbon, letting it spin every which way. “I love him!” 

“I’m glad. It made me think of you,” Dan explained as Phil cooed at the little ceramic dog. 

Phil placed the dog in his lap, or well, on top of Dan’s legs, and looked at Dan. Their faces were mere centimeters apart, Phil only closed that space by leaning forward to kiss Dan’s nose. 

“You remembered that everyone gets me Christmas ornaments,” Phil whispered, there was a wonder in his voice that Dan didn’t understand. Of course he remembered, how could he forget? How could he forget about anything Phil had ever told him, when Phil had taken over a large portion of his brain...and an even larger portion of his heart. 

“I wanted to be a part of the tradition, I guess,” Dan shrugged, downplaying how fast his heart was beating. Phil beamed, his eyes were so crinkled Dan could barely see into them. “The other one is like, kind of really dumb,” Dan nodded towards the bag, “but it made me think of us.”

Phil hummed, quirking a brow as he reached back into the bag. He pulled the other ornament, wrapped in paper, out of it and held it in his palm. It was larger than the tiny corgi figure, a big flat disc in Phil’s hand. Dan knew he was holding in a breath now, for good reason, he _really_ had no idea what Phil would think of this. Unlike the corgi, which Dan knew Phil would love, this was a gamble. He could hate it. He could laugh in Dan’s face. He could cry. And Dan was clueless to which it would be. 

Phil unwrapped the paper with the same gentle touch as the first, which only fueled Dan’s nerves. But soon enough, Phil was holding the unwrapped glass ornament in his hand. 

It was silly, really. The baby blue snowflake had caught Dan’s attention when he perused the almost empty Christmas aisle, and it was the thought that immediately popped into his head that made it impossible for him to leave the store without it. _Wouldn’t that be funny on Phil’s tree?_

“Dan…” Phil whispered, not taking his eyes off of the ornament. 

“It’s dumb, I know, I thought it would be funny-” Dan started to rush out, all at once, but his mouth kind of just hung open when Phil lifted his gaze to him. Phil’s eyes were wet and something squeezed at Dan’s heart in his chest so hard, he found it hard to breathe. 

“Did you…” Phil stared at Dan with intense eyes, a look Dan didn’t think he had seen from him before. “Did you mean it like this?” Phil lifted the ornament in his hand, his voice was small, and a tear spilled over. 

Dan gently dabbed at Phil’s cheek with the sleeve of his sweater, nodding his head as he did so. He blinked, desperate to not cry because Phil was crying, but it didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. Dan knew his eyes would continue to betray him if he kept looking at Phil, so, with misty eyes, he looked down at the ornament in his hand instead. 

It was just a silly ornament, it really was. Just a pale blue snowflake with little painted animals dotted about it. A lion and a bear. A few squirrels holding acorns. A deer and a giraffe. A couple of birds. They all looked back at Dan as he wiped at his own leaky eyes, he could feel Phil breathing a bit raggedly from where his side was pressed against him. 

“Baby’s first Christmas,” Phil read the writing in the center of the snowflake aloud. 

Dan sniffed, “It’s me. I’m baby.” 

Phil snorted, absolutely erupting in laughter. He dropped the ornament next to the corgi and clutched at his stomach, the laughter and crying just turning into hiccupy, wheezy sobs. Dan was much of the same, he didn’t know if the tears were falling from the laughter or all of the soft feelings in his chest. He gripped at Phil’s bicep with both of his hands, burying his head into Phil’s shoulder as they both hiccuped and wheezed. 

“I fucking hate you,” Phil got out between sobs. He gripped at Dan’s shoulder, pulling them into a weird half hug, half trying to brace themselves on each other so they wouldn’t topple over. “I hate you so much,” he laughed into Dan’s neck. 

They stayed like that for a while, as their laughter died down, until they were just grossly sniffling into each others shoulders. Dan pulled away from Phil’s shoulder, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his jumper before moving his hand to nudge Phil off his shoulder so he was looking at him. 

“So I take it you understood what I was going for,” Dan huffed as he looked into Phil’s eyes, reaching a hand up to run through Phil’s incredibly messy hair. Phil smiled and Dan settled his hand at the back of Phil’s neck, rubbing at the short hair by his ear. Dan knew the answer was yes from the look in his eyes. 

“This means a lot to me,” Phil answered with his words, letting go of his grip on Dan to pick the ornament back up. 

“It means a lot to me, too.” Dan smiled, wrapping his free hand around Phil’s and the ornament. “All of this. You. It all means so much,” he added, in a whisper, trying not to start crying again. 

Phil leaned forward and kissed him, saying so much more than words could. But, he could also say words. So he did. “I love you,” Phil said against Dan’s lips, not allowing for a response as he was diving back in for another. 

“You’re a right sap,” Dan hummed when they eventually parted. 

“Takes one to know one,” Phil quipped back, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to Dan’s forehead. 

“Merry Christmas, Phil.” Dan leaned into the affection. 

“Merry Christmas, Dan.” 

“Where did you even come from, Phil Lester?” Dan wondered aloud, an hour - maybe two - later. They were still cuddled up on the floor by the fire. It was barely crackling anymore, the flame was almost extinguished, but the warmth was still there. 

“The North Pole,” Phil deadpanned, pressing a kiss into Dan’s curls. Dan snorted. “I’m serious!” Phil moved them so he could look Dan in the eye, Dan let him jostle him around. 

There was a sly look on Phil’s face and Dan didn’t trust it.

“Santa sent me, you know. To teach you the true meaning of Christmas again. Why did you think I wear an elf costume to work?” Phil leaned in close to Dan’s face, “It’s not really a costume,” he whispered conspiratorially. 

Dan just rolled his eyes. Phil gasped in mock offense at the action. 

“You were more fun when you were gullible,” Phil shook his head, poking a finger into the dimple that had just showed up on Dan’s cheek as he smiled at his boyfriend’s antics. 

“I know your tricks now,” Dan grabbed Phil’s hand from his face and laced their fingers together, squeezing his hand once. “And besides, this is real life, not one of those cheesy rom-com Christmas movies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! Merry Christmas everyone!! This has probably been one of the most ridiculous and fun...ridiculously fun....things I've ever done and I appreciate all of you reading more than I could ever say in words. To think when I first started this story, I was like, "Oh yeah, it'll just be like 10k words or so".....yeah Sierra you really strayed off that path. I hope you all enjoy your holidays, or just are having a nice day in general if you're not celebrating anything...or for some reason are reading this in like...the middle of July or something, lol.  
> The last little Christmas present under my sleeve, is me pointing out how the number of chapters have changed....I will be seeing you all one more time before the year ends, as I have grown too attached to leave these boys just yet. :)  
> Also, please, if you haven't already, take a moment to check out Kelly Clarkson's Winter Dreams (this fic's namesake) as it is well and truly such a dnp song and inadvertently became such an influence on this story.  
> Love you guys! :)


	26. Epilogue

Dan had never been one for traditions. He didn’t even like the word all that much. Traditional - it implied the opposite of everything he was, or wanted to be. He loved to be organized, lived by his routines, but traditions were different. Despite that, Dan has come to embrace a lot of traditions with Phil. Some new, created by them for themselves, and some old, adopted by Dan from Phil and his family. Dan, of course, loved every one of them. 

One of Dan’s favorite traditions between the two of them was celebratory takeout. It was usually Domino’s, but when they found themselves with increasing amounts of reasons to celebrate - like with the launch of Dan’s new brand and company - they would switch it up a bit. Celebratory Lo Mein and Pad Thai. Sometimes they even sprung for celebratory sushi from the ridiculously expensive sushi bar on the other side of London, the one that Dan insisted had the best avocado rolls he’s ever tasted. At two, three, four, and eventually five million follower milestones there was always a pizza slice cheers between the two of them, as they cuddled up on Phil's cozy couch. 

Or well, he guesses it wasn’t really Phil's couch anymore. Because as it turns out, Dan never had to get that spare key made for his flat for when phil would drop by unannounced, as Dan no longer had his flat. It was a change, definitely, leaving behind the space that Dan had called home since moving to London, but Dan had a new home now. In Phil. _No, that sounds weird._ With Phil. But hey, could you really blame him? A walk in closet, where Dan had more than enough space for his ever expanding wardrobe - though he’s still not sure if hanging across from Phil’s obnoxious amount of Christmas suits was devaluing his Gucci and McQueen. And not to mention, having a bathtub he could finally fully extend in. And well, waking up to Phil every morning, of course. It obviously wasn’t difficult for Dan to make the decision when Phil asked him to move in about a year after they had first met. 

Phil had encouraged Dan to take over his empty office, turning it into a real office space slash studio. And as Dan’s career and ambitions got bigger and bigger, they became Phil’s as well - less shifts at John Lewis and a second desk added to the office. 

They worked well together, an absolute dream team. Some would even call them a power couple. Phil loved the work they did, he was passionate about it in a way his old job never let him be. It let him be creative. And he was absolutely never overworked, Dan made sure of that. 

He didn’t quit John Lewis all together though, he could never give up his seasonal shifts as Santa’s Little Helper. Most mornings of November and December, Dan would see him off with a kiss and a playful swat at the jingle bell attached to the top of his elf hat. Another tradition of theirs, if you will. It was paired with Dan’s unspoken tradition of stopping by when Phil was working, bringing up something expensive from the men’s department that he really didn’t need, just to get it gift wrapped. Phil made sure the company always stocked the forest green paper with the little woodland creatures on it, just for Dan. 

After their first Christmas together, they traveled home, only for those few days between Christmas and New Year's that seem to all blend together - no one ever truly knowing what day it was. Dan and Phil only added fuel to that phenomenon, choosing to camp out on Phil’s cozy couch for the duration. Hours upon hours of video games played and movies watched, and probably just as many hours of kisses exchanged. 

For New Years, Dan followed Phil up North - he, _of course_ , would follow him anywhere - to celebrate with Phil’s friends from University. This seemed to be a tradition for Phil, so it became a tradition for Dan as well. Every year flying home from the Isle, video game marathons, and finally a train up North to celebrate New Year’s together - with friends of Phil’s that were quickly friends of Dan’s. They had dogs, Phil’s friends, and Dan would swear he liked them as people and not just because of the dogs. Phil would let it slide with a reminder - or fifteen reminders a month - that he did own his apartment and therefore could get a dog. Dan would remind him that he could barely keep plants alive. Though, the plants in their home looked a bit less crispy once there were two struggling plant dads looking after them. The flowers that were often brought home to each other always thriving the most. 

The second Christmas they spent together, Dan was given a matching Christmas sweater in his size. It was definitely a sight to see, the whole Lester clan yelling over Monopoly on Christmas Eve, circled around the table in the same bright red and green sweater with a cat on the front - _Meowy Christmas_ scrawled over the chest. Dan would be lying if he said he hated it. 

That year, he was also gifted the same stocking he had the year before, but with a new addition. A big D sewn onto the front in black sequins. When he moved his hand across them, the color changed from black to silver. The whole Lester family echoing each other about “ _Dan’s aesthetic”_ when he was presented with it. Maybe he cried, just a little bit. 

By the third Christmas they spent together, the five hooks by the door of Phil’s parent’s cottage became six. It was for practicality, you see, Dan took every chance to visit the Isle with Phil, even when it wasn’t Christmas. It was for practicality, Dan would say, but it meant so much _more._

The fourth Christmas they spent together was the first year, _and the first time_ , that they flew on a plane with a dog. Their dog. Who was instantly the most spoiled former shelter dog the world had ever seen. 

And on the fifth Christmas… _Well_ , the fifth Christmas that they spent together was the year Dan and Phil spent the most on gifts for each other, unbeknownst to one another. If that year, there were two small ring boxes wrapped up perfectly in Christmas paper under the Lester family tree, well, that would be the perfect cliché to end this story on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all of you for reading!! Writing this story has brought me so much joy!! If you'd like, come find me on twitter @ sierraadeux for chats and bants and my complaint tweets about all the ideas I have for stories that I just need to find the time to write, haha.


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